Whole Thing Happening
by ObsessedRomantic
Summary: Sequel to 'This Is School', 3rd in the Townwood Hills AU. Ryan and Anna start 'dating' but is anyone really fooled? RT, mention of SS.
1. coffee

**Whole Thing Happening **

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything to do with anything you might recognize. Please do not sue, I'm only writing to satisfy my feedback addiction.

**Summary: **Next in the Townwood Hills series, sequel to This Is School. Ryan and Anna start 'dating', but is anyone really fooled? RT, some SS.

**A/N: **Try not to be too pissed with me for this chapter, okay? RL is being pretty gnarly right now (Oh, God, I said gnarly…….I **do **need therapy).

--xxx—

_Deet-deet. Deet-deet._

''Shit.'' Ryan groaned, refusing to open his eyes as he fumbled along the night stand for his cell. It was probably just Seth, too lazy to walk down to the pool house for the re-hashing of the carnival's events. If so, he was gonna hang up and go back to sleep. For the five minutes it would take his friend to charge in and wake him for Seth-Ryan time, that is. Of course, it **could** be Taylor. That possibility was the only reason he was blindly flipping the damn thing open. Even the hours they'd spent taking full advantage of Anna's largesse hadn't dimmed his attraction. If anything, the conversations between the waves of passion were just as strong a pull as the sex; doubling (if not tripling) his desire. With _**her**_, he could be completely honest, completely himself, and he reveled in it. Maybe she'd have an idea about how they could get together today, after he had a nap, that is. The idea chased the sleep from his voice as he spoke, deepened his tone with enthusiasm. ''Hey.''

''Thank God!'' The voice was female; but it wasn't happy, and certainly wasn't Taylor. ''Where are you?!''

''Kirsten?'' He forced himself to open his eyes and realized why it was he didn't remember sneaking back into the pool house.

He was still in the hotel room.

''Ryan?! Where are you? Are you all right?'' Kirsten sounded a little frantic and a surge of guilt went through him for making her worry. When Taylor had left to 'close down' the carnival, he'd sat down to rest, just for a minute. Shit, he must've gone right to sleep, curling himself under the sheets. ''Why didn't you come home last night? Why didn't you call?''

''I'm okay.'' He did **not** want to tell her where he was, and definitely did not want to admit to what he'd been **doing**. Not to her. Embarrassment heated his skin (even though he knew it was ridiculous) as he realized he was talking to his adopted mother without any clothes on. He pulled the sheets further up his chest, feeling exposed despite knowing she couldn't see him. ''Uhm, is Sandy there?'' Please, let Sandy be there, he thought desperately. Sandy was a man, Sandy would understand this.

He hoped.

''He's out looking for you!'' That was a complete loss of patience, he recognized the tone and flinched. Protesting that he hadn't meant to fall asleep or make her worry wasn't going to cut it. She'd want full disclosure, and that left him with the options of making Anna out to be a slut (putting out on the first 'date') or coming clean on the whole Taylor thing. ''Where are you, Ryan?'' There was a dangerous note in her voice, an 'I'm going to count to three' tone.

The Kirsten was pissed.

''Uhm……a hotel?'' He cringed in anticipation, waiting for the explosion.

''In Newport?'' Fuck, did they really think he'd gone back to Chino? What possible reason could he have to run away? ''Seth told us about this girl you met in Mexico, that she didn't show up for carnival.'' Okay, that was a reason. More of a Seth-type reason, but a reason. And at least now she sounded sympathetic under her angry tone. ''Are you sure you're okay?''

''Yeah.'' She sounded like he'd taken a bullet instead of a (supposed) emotional blow. ''I was talking with a friend.'' Not a lie, he told himself. Taylor was a friend as well as …….He had to stop thinking about _**her**_ while talking to Kirsten, the conversation was uncomfortable enough.

''In a hotel room.'' Shit, he needed to wake up, fast. Seth may have bought the story and gone off on one of his Summer tangents, but their mother wasn't as easily thrown off the scent. Fear made him more snide than was intelligent.

''You'd prefer a bar?'' Dumbass, he chided internally. This isn't Sandy, who thinks your sarcastic little quips are funny. ''Sorry.''

''Have you been drinking?'' Now she was more suspicious than sympathetic, and she still sounded ticked.

''No!'' He made sure to make his protest sound very apologetic, even though he didn't think he'd done anything really wrong. So he hadn't checked in, he hadn't done it on purpose; and he wasn't drunk or high or anything. Hell, they'd used condoms every…….okay, not information The Kirsten needed to have. ''I just…….I lost track of time.'' He knew she wasn't going to buy the 'talking all night' thing, especially as it wasn't true, and he didn't want to get into what he'd actually been doing.

''Where are you? I'll send Sandy to get you.'' She didn't sound understanding or forgiving, just more ticked off. She probably knew (through some 'mom-sense' he hadn't believed Seth that she possessed) that he wasn't being entirely honest. He rattled off the room number and took the fastest, coldest shower of his life; scrambling into his clothes from the night before. He made a serious attempt to make the bed, then remembered that he had the excuse of having fallen asleep there and left it.

Then he made the call.

''Hello?'' She sounded chipper. Of course, there wasn't any reason for her to be depressed. She'd gotten a full night's sleep, and didn't have a thing to hide. Well, not anything about last night, anyway.

''Anna? It's Ryan.'' He peeked out through the curtains, swallowing when he saw the familiar shape of the Cohen's car pulling into the lot. That was fast, Sandy must've been close by. ''I'm kinda busted.''

''Are you still at the hotel?!" Now she sounded nearly as panicked as Kirsten had. Speaking of which, **she** obviously thought he might've been making a break for it, because his adopted mother was the one stepping out of the car. Thankfully, she didn't have Seth with her. Maintaining this fiction was gonna be hard enough without the (seemingly) mind-reading abilities of his best friend. ''What's going on, Ryan?!"

''I told them I was with a friend.''

''Ryan!''

''Talking, Anna; I told them we were talking.''

''Yes, because that's **so** much more believable.'' He flinched from her biting tone, knowing he'd messed up. ''They're gonna think I'm a slut.''

''They're more likely to think I'm a pervert.'' Thanks to his brother's big mouth, they probably already did. He knew it'd been a mistake to share some of his Chino stories with the guy, but those pleading brown eyes were hard to say no to. And it wasn't like he'd been ashamed of it, at the time.

''Truth hurts, Atwood.'' Bitch. Pretending to date her was gonna be hard if he had to fight the urge to strangle her. Maybe he should ask Summer how she managed not to murder Seth.

''Kirsten's here.'' He snapped at her, glad of the excuse to hang up. He closed his prepaid and turned off the ringer. A secret phone wouldn't be a secret for long if it went off in the middle of the interrogation to come. He unlatched the door in response to her knocking, holding onto the knob so she wouldn't see his hand shake. ''Hey.''

''Ryan.'' The surprised twitch when she threw her arms around him was instinctive. Damn, she must've been really worried. His ear was damp and he realized that she was crying, just a little, in her relief. He vowed that no matter how tired he was, how embarrassed, how **anything**; he would never, ever do this to her again.

''I'm sorry, Kirsten.'' He was, more than he could possibly say. Not even_** Taylor**_ was worth seeing the woman like this, knowing he caused it. He felt like scum, like an ungrateful, selfish bastard.

Shit, he felt like Trey.

''I'm just glad you're okay.'' She pushed back, holding him at arm's length, and twitched her lips as her gaze fell on his neck. "Talking, huh?'' He slapped a hand over the mark, feeling his face flush as he remembered (too late) the teeth dragging over, digging into his skin as he pinned his auburn beauty to the mattress and……

''Maybe.'' Ryan cleared his throat, looking down at his shoes. Yeah, it wasn't a very strong cover story. Anna and Taylor were gonna kill him; provided there was anything left when the Cohen's got done with him.

The ride home in the car was predictably uncomfortable and tensely silent. He was pretty sure that most of the reason she wouldn't look at him was embarrassment. He remembered that 'Turo's mom had much the same reaction, when she'd catch the guy with a girl in his room. After chasing her half-dressed son around the yard with a rolled-up newspaper (which was always hilarious to watch); she'd drag her family to church for a month, pleading forgiveness. He_ knew_ how humiliated she was because, after he'd been caught coming out of Theresa's roombefore dawn one morning; she (crimson-faced or not) had started dragging **him** along as well. He didn't know what the Cohen's punishment was going to be for staying out all night, making them worry (the concern blown way out of proportion by events in TJ); but he** did** know (from their reaction to his soccer suspension) that getting kicked out wasn't on the table, which was a relief. Nor did he fear a physical punishment, not from these two. He seriously doubted there was a sin great enough to push them over the line to become violent with their family.

No, his punishment was more likely to be something creative: like being loaned to the country club for strong-man duty with the Newpsies.

Shit, he'd almost rather take a beating.

''Dude!'' He ignored Seth's raised hand, the implicit request for a high-five; not really being in a celebratory mood when he saw the look on Sandy's face. Not for the first time, he wished his guardian was easier to read. He couldn't tell if the man was pissed, relieved, or just annoyed as Ryan came down the foyer steps. ''You know, you guys; you can't really punish him.''

''Seth….'' He tried to stop his brother's 'help', the adults were irritated enough with him without having their authority challenged.

''No, seriously. It's not like you had a curfew…..''

''Seth, **don't**.'' While the lack of a firm curfew may be technically true, he doubted it would be factored into their judgment. It wasn't where he'd been or what he'd been doing or even that he'd been gone all night; it was that he hadn't called, that they hadn't been informed about major events in his life. And he wasn't going to be able to tell them, either. That was why he was staring at the floor, not trying to plead his way out of trouble with his expression. ''I'm sorry. I fell asleep. I just forgot...'' Forgot that anyone would notice that he was gone, that anyone would care.

''Forgot?'' Kirsten sounded like she was about to lose it, but thankfully her husband gave her a significant look. He couldn't read their silent exchange, but she went quiet, gentling her expression. ''Why don't you boys wait in the pool house?'' He knew it was just a postponement, but he was so relived to get out from under her stare he didn't give a shit. Just thinking about the fact that she knew what he'd been doing last night was enough to make him blush all over again.

''So, did you and Miss Mexico have a fun time? All night, in a hotel, just the two of you? Had to be awesome, right?'' Seth didn't even wait until they'd reached the patio, bursting out with his questions when Ryan stopped in the kitchen to grab something to eat. ''Come on, we're brothers; that bond comes before the ladies, doesn't' it?''

''I don't want to talk about it.'' That was absolutely true. Even without the need for secrecy, he doubted he'd want to share what he and Taylor had with anyone. It was too strong, too private, too **new** a sensation; what he felt when he was with her, how he obsessed about her when he wasn't. He tried to relax a little, sitting on the end of the bed in the pool house, his friend taking his usual seat in the wicker chair.

'"Why? What happened?'' He didn't answer, concentrating on his bagel and orange juice to avoid giving anything away. ''Did you guys break up or something?'' He shrugged, not meeting the other boy's eyes. ''That doesn't make any sense; you said she was willing to risk ……... How come she all of a sudden….?''

''What did you tell them?'' He asked, interrupting the train of thought, motioning towards the main house as he tossed his empty bottle. Last thing he needed was the taller boy thinking that the 'breakup' wasn't valid. And he needed to know how far the secret had been spread.

''Just that you met a girl last Friday night, couldn't stop thinking about her Saturday, and were probably out trying to find her.'' That was good, no one knew anything more than he'd already revealed. ''Guess not telling the 'rents doesn't matter anymore, does it.'' He was amazed at how depressed the guy sounded, bummed out over someone else's 'rejection'. If only Seth was dating someone a little less plugged into the rumor mill, he'd be perfectly willing to share the new plan, just to cheer him up. ''What a major skank, playing you like that. You should totally tell everyone how easy she is, get her back for ..……..'' He couldn't listen to any more of this, not without blowing the cover story.

Not to mention that it would be a violation of his probation (and the Cohen's trust) to break his new brother's jaw.

''How'd things go with Summer?'' It was the only subject that was guaranteed to distract the guy, and would keep him pre-occupied until Sandy arrived to let him know how deep he was in it.

''Terrific! With all those tickets, I was able to get her a stuffed animal **and** a charm bracelet. Nickel-plated, true; but it doesn't set the bar too high, and jewelry **is**, after all, jewelry.'' He let the babbling wash over him, grinning at the enthusiasm of his friend when relating every detail of how Summer was now paying attention to him. The two had apparently been making out, again; this time in public. Looked like the girl had made her decision, he just hoped she didn't change her mind when the crowd at school started their inevitable criticism. ''Did I mention that I wasn't at all nauseous? Usually the Tilt-A-Whirl is an exercise in vomit-control, and when you add in the stress of…….'' He leaned forward, interrupting his best friend with a nod to where the man of the house was making his way across the patio. ''Father! Please, be seated, oh wise one.''

''Boys.'' Sandy cleared his throat, sitting gingerly in the just-vacated chair. Ryan yanked on the younger Cohen's shirt, pulling the kid down to sit next to him on the bed. From the expression on the older man's face, this wasn't going to be pleasant. The obvious searching for words made him nervous. Just how bad was this going to be? ''Kirsten thinks I should talk to you……both of you…..about……well, about……….. about sex.'' You can't possibly be serious, he thought, staring at his lawyer in shock.

''Oh my God.'' Seth whispered, apparently just as horrified. The guy clapped his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth and calling on Moses and Jesus to 'save him' from the coming conversation. He felt like joining in; what good was this talk really going to do **him**? Aside from giving him a permanent rosy tint to his face?

''So, I'm guessing you both know …….I mean, you must know how……..'' Throat once more clear, the man doggedly attempted to continue. ''The technical details can be a little……..''

''Yes!'' His brother suddenly blurted, holding out his hands in a 'stop' posture, eyes tightly shut. ''We know how it works! Please, Dad……''

''Okay, good. That saves that whole…….'' The man was risking permanent damage, clearing his throat so often. ''Do you………?'' Ryan froze in horror as the uncomfortable grey eyes landed on him, meeting his gaze with a hesitant determination. ''Did you use……..?'' He couldn't speak, nodding desperately, feeling even more heat flow over his features as he confirmed that his actions last night had been 'safe'. ''Good, that's good. You should always……..''

''Sandy…….'' He'd give anything for this conversation to be over. This was worse than any punishment they could've handed out.

''And you know that abstinence…….'' Disbelief did what pleading couldn't, and Sandy at last fell silent. The room was quiet, save for the muttering coming from next to him; consisting of words like 'therapy' and 'selective amnesia'. ''Seth, I need to talk to Ryan alone; could you…..?'' He was going to get his brother, later, for the way he bolted from the room, abandoning him. Not that he blamed him. If someone had handed him a way out of this squirming discomfort, he would've jumped at it, too. ''Kirsten's a little concerned about……..'' Please, please just make it stop. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut tight, bracing himself for whatever was on the woman's mind. ''We just want to know why you went to a hotel.'' He frowned, opening his eyes to give his guardian a wondering stare. ''Well, I can guess** why**…..'' there was a vague waving in the direction of his neck and he reddened once again. ''……what I mean is…….why not here?''

''You think Kirsten would be _**okay**_ with that?'' He ducked his head over the grin, giving Sandy a sideways look. The other didn't seem to be amused, oddly enough. Shit. If they were taking this so seriously they didn't want to joke about it…….

''We thought you felt safe here.'' Hold on, were they saying that their _feelings_ were hurt because he hadn't used the pool house? That was just …….weird. ''Is there some reason that you didn't feel you could come home?'' There was a pause, and the man took a deep bracing breath, meeting his eyes squarely, with that same look of affectionate compassion that he'd worn during the soccer discussion. ''Is it that……were you with a guy?'' He couldn't mean, he didn't think……..

''Sandy!'' He didn't know whether to punch, run screaming from the room, or laugh his ass off. Laughter was starting to win; the whole situation was just too fucked-up not to be utterly ridiculous. ''I'm not gay.'' He managed to choke the denial out between his snickers; difficult, as the stress of having 'The Talk' was looking for some kind of release. Off the confusion that replaced the tight look of patient understanding: ''Talk to me as a lawyer.''

''Kid, you're not in any trouble.'' He shrugged, shifted his gaze up to Seth's window, over to the door, down to his sneakers, then back up to the sun-worn face. ''Or were you requesting confidentiality?'' When he nodded, the man leaned forward in the chair, clasping his hands together. ''I can't promise how objective I'm going to be; but I'll definitely keep this between us.''

Now that he had permission to begin, he didn't know if he could. There was part of him that was screaming that he was betraying his promise to Taylor, to keep their relationship quiet; but a larger part, a more practical part, was saying that Mr. Cohen, at least, needed all the facts in order to help them both, should the time come when help would be needed. Ryan felt that the practicality of coming clean to the man would appeal to_** her**_, once she calmed down. Hell, he might even have some ideas about how they could sell it to her mother.

''What do you know about the girl I met in TJ?'' He didn't ask what Seth had let slip; he knew Sandy had probably figured out a lot more then had actually been said.

''I know that you met her that Friday night, that you were most likely with her up until Seth called you, Saturday evening.'' How did he…..? Of course: their cell phone records. If he'd been **with** his brother, there would've been no need for the call. ''From the way my son's been smirking at you, and the empty box of condoms Rosa found in your laundry……'' Shit. Well, at least it hadn't been Kirsten. ''……..I'd say you've been having sex with this girl every day this past week.'' There was a frown, and he braced himself for a lecture on……….well, he wasn't sure what, but he was sure that the older man didn't approve, and that meant a lecture. ''I just can't figure out why you're sneaking around. It can't be that it's Summer, you'd never do that to Seth.'' His throat tightened at the automatic faith in his better nature, he had to drop his gaze to the floor. ''Best theory is that she's an older woman; I think the term is Milf?'' That was just wrong, thinking of any of the Newpsies as someone he'd want to take to bed.

No way. Not even blind drunk would he sink **that** far. Besides, what did he need those silicon sluts for?

He had _**Taylor**_.

''Her mom's a psycho.'' He saw the man didn't understand, ran a nervous hand through his own hair. ''I won't be able to stay here with a rape charge on file; and she can't say it's consensual if she's in an asylum, or out of the country at an all-girl's boarding school.'' That was enough information for Sandy to piece together the rest, he watched the wheels turn over in the grey eyes as his adopted father worked through the same things they had, back in TJ. In a town like this, where most people already thought the worst of him; there was no **way** they wouldn't believe the accusation, no way that they wouldn't step up to 'testify', even if they didn't know anything. Hell, Julie Cooper alone would leave skid-marks in her eagerness to stab him in the back. ''We've got it handled, but I thought you should know.''

''Ryan, are you sure that……..'' There was hesitance, a deep reluctance to cast doubt on his feelings for this girl; that much he could read by tone of voice. He interrupted before the question could be finished.

''I trust her.'' His guardian started, staring at him in wonder. He shrugged, picking at his comforter. ''We talk.'' He was aware of amazement being directed his way, he kept his eyes on his bedclothes and waited.

''Given that your other confidant is my son, saying that your sense of who to trust is impeccable sounds a little conceited, doesn't it.'' A worn hand claps him on the shoulder and he looked up, relieved to see the conspiratory smile. ''Now; let's talk curfew.''

--xxx—

She didn't know if she could do this.

Yesterday afternoon, talking to Ryan on the phone, it had all seemed so sensible and brilliant. He'd told her about how Mrs. Cohen had worried about him (which seemed to amaze him) and how Mr. Cohen was now their advocate (although he remained ignorant of her name, thankfully) and that they should skip getting together until Monday night in order to lend more verisimilitude to the 'Mexico girl dumped him' story Seth (and Summer) was already spreading around.

It had all seemed wonderfully practical, a real 'fool-proof' idea.

Until she saw Ryan walking to class with Anna, smiling at something she was saying and had to strangle the urge to snap the other girl's neck.

She hadn't anticipated that the envy and jealousy would be this strong. It wasn't that she didn't want him to be happy, spending time with his friends. It was just that she wanted to be sitting there on the couch in the student lounge **with** them; to know what Summer was rolling her eyes about, to hear the story Seth was telling (the angle was wrong to read his lips), to see the light dancing in _**his**_ blue eyes as he ducked his head over a grin. Only the old, familiar terror of her mother's reaction kept her at her usual tiny table, cappuccino rapidly growing cold in her grip.

Taylor bit her lip, unable to pull her gaze away from everything she'd ever wanted, feeling more alone than before. He turned his head, and she didn't want to feel relief at the bored and unhappy look, but she did. She didn't want to feel smug and victorious when his eyes briefly flared with excitement at seeing her watching him, but she let a smile flirt with her lips before he looked away with patently fake nonchalance. He stood up, just as the bell rang for the end of morning break, and she saw Anna covering for him; teasing him about his eagerness to 'get back to class'. Thinking of the arrangements they'd made for after school ('study date' at Anna's was actually something quite different at **her** place) allowed her not to run over and drag him to 'their' closet, to return her attention to her studies. It even permitted her not to scream at the frustrating drag of lessons, teachers droning on and on in monotonous insensitivity. Didn't they know she had important things (more like an important someone) to do?

Finally, _finally_; all that was left was social committee.

''Hey, Townsend.'' The meeting had been brief, thankfully, but Summer Roberts was lingering and that made her nervous on several levels. What if she was still trying to find out the identity of Ryan's 'mystery girl'? This time fueled by a desire for payback (on behalf of a friend) instead of mere curiosity? ''So, nice job on the carnival.'' **Something** was going on; that was an actual compliment and no one at this school **ever** gave her _compliments_, not even the few people who acknowledged her existence.

''I'm just glad that everyone enjoyed themselves.'' She finished gathering the paperwork for the next event (a Sadie Hawkins dance, nothing too major) and closed the binder decisively. ''Not to be rude, but you've never spoken to me before and I can't help but wonder…..''

''What it is I want?'' Summer sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn't seem upset, just uncomfortable. ''Well, you know I started hanging out with Cohen.''

''I know you two are dating, yes.'' Taylor smiled at the look of irritation that flared in the brown eyes.

''Whatev.'' Not twitching when the other girl suddenly gripped onto her forearm was difficult, especially with that desperate look on her face. What the heck? ''You have to help me, Taylor.''

''Of course, Summer.'' She patted the small hand, noting absently that they apparently had the same manicurist. What could be so wrong that the girl would be coming to **her** for help? ''Are you okay? Is Seth………'' There was no way the boy would ever risk upsetting the subject of what had to be the longest-held crush on record. But what else could it be?

''It's not Cohen, it's Chino.'' For a brief moment, she thought that the girl meant the actual place; until she remembered that it was also, apparently, Ryan's nickname. Fear that the other might be after the blonde boy flared before she dismissed it as patently ridiculous. And Summer's next words supported that dismissal. ''Actually, it's Chino's new girl.''

''Anna?'' There was a sharp look from the slightly shorter girl and she reminded herself of what_** he'd**_ said, about how unexpectedly intelligent she was. ''I may not be the most popular person, Ms. Roberts, but I do have ears; and the rumor mill at Harbor is second to none.'' That was easily dealt with, suspicion instantly faded into the former desperation. ''Has she said something? About Marissa or anything?'' Or made a pass at you, she thought mischeviously. It would be stupid for the blonde girl to blow it like that, but it would also be entertaining as all get out.

''No, she doesn't even know Marissa. Sometimes I think I don't know her either.'' She patted the hand on her arm soothingly, wondering what she could say that wouldn't sound smug or condescending. The only thing** she** was really known for was being Marissa Cooper's chief rival for social chair, which kind of hampered any expression of sympathy she might make. ''Anyway, today we spent the breaks together, and lunch…..'' she knew that, but couldn't say that she'd been watching (avidly) without revealing her illicit interest in the Cohen's ward ''….. and it was _horrible_.'' Confusion furrowed her brow, driving the brunette to be more explicit. ''The three of them talked; well, more Cohen and Anna than Chino, but still! It was all comic books and video games and action movies and whiny music and something called animus …..'' anime, she corrected mentally, beginning to be amused ''…….the **whole time**! It's not funny!'' Summer yanked her hands away, crossing her arms over her chest again and even went so far as to stamp her foot. ''I was so bored, I almost went to sit with skank-ass Holly!''

''Don't say 'ass'.'' Taylor suggested automatically, raising an eyebrow at the brown-eyed disbelief. ''It isn't lady-like, and you are _nothing_ if not a lady, Summer.'' There was a very undignified snort and the other muttered something about the quality of her gossip sources. ''I'm not really sure what you're asking me for……''

''Hang out with us!'' Now it was her turn to be disbelieving. Did the girl really think she was so hard up for friends she'd take fifth wheel sta…….Okay, yes, she would. Not only was she actually that lonely, but it would give her a legitimate excuse to spend more time with _**him**_ (not that the other girl needed to know **that)**. ''If I have to spend one more minute hearing about Marvelous and Dicey I'm going to scream.''

''I believe it's Marvel and DC.'' Horror filled the delicate features, the brunette even backed away a few steps. She tried not to laugh. ''While I'm perfectly willing to sit with you and discuss fashion and whatever other subjects we have in common……'' being clever and petite in this swarm of over-stacked bimbos sprang to mind ''……..or even distract Ms. Stern so that you can have Seth's full attention …….'' The girl actually blushed, a reaction she had some sympathy for, knowing how uncoordinated she herself got when Ryan was around. ''…….there are a few problems.''

''Chino's not violent or anything, Townsend; he's a pussycat, really.'' More like a cougar, she thought to herself; remembering ……

No, she couldn't think of _**him**_ right now. She'd get all lost in her thoughts and something might slip.

''The first problem is: what happens when you find something you and Anna can discuss, a common ground?'' She _knew _what would happen, she'd be on the outside looking in. **Again**. ''Second problem: my mother.'' While her mother would be pleased (stunned and disbelieving, but pleased) to discover she had friends, there was a blind spot in the woman's demands that she 'be popular'. Boys. Seeing that the other girl didn't understand her, she shrugged, dropping her gaze to fiddle with the stickers decorating the cover of the social committee binder. ''My mother doesn't want me to date. Says there'll be plenty of time for **that** when I get to college.''

''That sucks.'' Summer rolled her eyes at her scolding expression. ''Right, don't say 'sucks'.'' The brunette stared at her contemplatively, obviously deep in thought. ''Look, do me this favor and I'll ask my dad if he'll talk to your mom.'' She gaped in astonishment, wondering why she'd never thought of asking another parent for help, before. Well, okay; she **knew** why. Most of the adults in Newport were intimidated (try terrified) of Veronica 'Bitch Queen' Townsend. Not even the mighty Kirsten Cohen would take on that challenge without a good reason, and Taylor didn't think her involvement with Ryan was a good enough reason for his adopted mother. Dr. Neil Roberts, however, was in a special category in the town's social scene. Being a plastic surgeon, he had more power and influence over the kind of person her mother was friends with than even Caleb Nichol and not only was he rumored to have a zero tolerance policy for manipulative bitches (like her mother), he also didn't care one whit (patients aside) about anything but his daughter.

Shock led her to blurt out the first thing that popped into her head.

''Good thing your father isn't single.''

--xxx—

''Calm down, stud.''

Ryan shot a glare out of the corner of his eyes at the girl driving. It was bad enough that Kirsten had wanted a schedule of his planned activities for the night, bad enough that Sandy had given him a look of tolerant understanding when he'd fought so hard to 'study' at Anna's place; now the girl thought (just because they were, supposedly, _dating_) that she could tell him to 'calm down'? It'd been two whole days since he'd last seen more than a glimpse of Taylor, and he felt like he was gonna explode.

Anna was lucky he wasn't running along beside the car.

''Ryan.'' His name was spoken with great exasperation and she took one hand off the wheel to smack his fingers away from the dashboard. The tingle on his knuckles didn't surprise him, but the sensation in his fingertips did, because that told him he'd been unconsciously drumming them on the glove box. ''I swear: _**boys**_.'' She said it with vast distaste and condescension. Like he was a lower life-form, just because he was male.

''Be glad I'm not Seth.'' He mumbled, adjusting his satchel and trying not to fidget. Anna drove like a textbook, always a few miles under the posted speed limit, always pausing for at least ten seconds at stop signs; she was driving him nuts. ''He'd've vibrated the car apart by now.'' She waited for traffic to clear entirely before making her turn; a move he could've done at least five times in the figurative hour it took her to complete it. ''Are you sure you're sixteen? You drive like you're sixty.''

''Straight girls have **got** to be out of their minds.'' She muttered; he pretended he didn't hear because they were (finally) making their snail-paced way up the Townsend driveway and his thoughts were already shifting to _**her**_.

''You could come in…….'' He made the invitation because he was starting to feel a little guilty. He just couldn't see the appeal for Anna in this whole situation. Yes, she was getting a good cover for her own little secret; but did that really make up for the fact that she was going to end up spending a lot of her nights by herself? Being solitary by nature, it didn't sound like a bad thing to him, but she was a** girl**. They were wired different. Hell, they couldn't even go to the bathroom by themselves.

Trey used to joke that the worst thing about prison (for women) was the lonely piss-breaks.

After which joke Dawn (or Theresa or whichever girl of the week Trey was doing) would smack the jerk (deservedly) upside the head.

''Oh, **no**. I am **not **sitting downstairs watching anime; no matter how rare or unedited, while you two shake the sheets. '' He knew that's probably what would happen, but she didn't have to put it like **that**. She made it sound …….._dirty_, and not in a good way, either.

''Fine.'' He undid the seatbelt and jumped out before the car came to a complete stop; making her curse and slam onto the brakes. ''See you.''

Ryan knew he'd be hearing about **that** little stunt all the way home, but he really didn't care. His mind was entirely focused on the directions he'd gotten over the phone, yesterday afternoon. The house was laid out just like she'd said, an overdone palace that would've looked more appropriate in the era of the French Sun Kings than modern-day southern California. Ostentatious didn't even begin to describe it. It was the Tammy Faye of structures, not at all like the Cohen's cozy little…….. Cozy. Since when was a **mansion** 'cozy'?

Newport was getting to him.

He smirked as he thought of that shirt Seth had, the one about not sleeping or the clowns would get you. Maybe Sandy would be willing to get** him** one about being careful so the Newpsies wouldn't get you. He was sure his guardian would be all for it; even if The Kirsten made him throw it out five seconds after she saw it.

''Ryan.'' When he knocked, he hadn't expected a flannel pajama-clad Taylor to open the door. He'd expected a maid (truth to tell, he'd been thinking butler) and had his 'school face' on, all his excuses about a teacher-assigned project ready to go. After a split second glance at her face, though, he gathered her against his chest and just held her.

Something had happened between the text she'd sent him at lunch and now, something to put a shadow in her eyes. He didn't know what it was, but there was no way he was gonna let her go through it alone. She hesitated before returning his embrace, which really made him start to worry. There was no tugging at his clothes, no attempts to pull him further into the house. This was bad. What the hell had happened?

''You okay?'' He asked, rubbing her back soothingly, enjoying the feel of her just being there, in his arms. Screw the macho image, sometimes it was good enough just to hold a girl and know that she was **there**, that she was willing to be intimate (and he didn't mean sexually) with you. She wasn't trembling or anything, so she couldn't be **too** upset. She wasn't stiff or trying to push him away, so it couldn't be anything he'd done. She mumbled something into his collarbone. ''What?''

''I started my period!" Taylor wailed, covering her face with her hands and trying to turn away from him. ''It's horrible and disgusting and completely ruined our evening and you probably hate me and ……..you………why are you laughing?'' She smacked him in the shoulder with a tiny fist, face red with humiliation and anger. ''Stop laughing!'' She hit him again and, while it didn't hurt, he didn't want her to get into the habit, like Summer was with Seth.

''Glad you're not pregnant.'' Ryan tapped her nose, smirking at the stunned realization in her glorious hazel eyes. ''So, can I come in?''

''You're……we can't…….'' She seemed utterly amazed he'd want to spend time with her without having sex. While it** was** kind of a disappointment, he was having more difficulty with the urge to strangle the living shit out of her mother and everyone else who had ever made her doubt that she was good company. It was the same urge he got whenever his brother fell over all over himself in gratitude for the simplest concessions (going to stupid parties, playing video games, listening to his rambling) on Ryan's part.

''Can watch some of your anime? Seth's really turned me onto it.'' She walked backwards in an obvious daze when he nudged her, finally allowing him access to her home. She seemed to snap back to herself as he closed the door, looking at him with her lip pouted out.

''I wanted to try some stuff from my book.'' She sounded like a kid denied a special treat. He was half-expecting her to stamp one bunny-slippered foot.

''Kama Sutra?'' Off her startled (and somewhat enthused) look: ''Chino's not exactly a monastery.''

''And you're **defi**nitely no monk.'' She told him, smiling. He waited to frown until she turned to lead him towards the kitchen. He always hated this time of the month when he was with a girl. Not because it made him a member of the chicken-choking community (Seth's term) again; but because there was nothing he could do to make it better. Aside from making sure the girl had access to chocolate (even if he had to steal it), he was pretty much useless. He was actually relieved to see that she was walking funny, like her feet hurt.

Just another way she was perfect for him: her 'monthly symptoms' were something he could help with.

''Y'know…….I give a good foot massage……..''

--xxx--

**A/N**: Okay, so maybe sore feet is a weird monthly symptom. Blame it on the fact I finished this at 3AM Saturday night/Sunday morning and my unwillingness to change the closing line.

Or maybe it's just that it's Taylor and the symptom seemed appropriate. Either or.


	2. dinner and a movie

**A/N: ** Okay, very long wait this time, sorry. Some cuteness and some smut, enjoy!

--xxx—

_Oh shit, oh fucking shit, oh mother-fucking shit_.

Well, that settles it. Ryan thought as he watched the two girls approached.

I'm gonna have to kill Summer.

''You're staring.'' Anna whispered warningly to him. He knew he was, knew he should get control of himself. But damnit all to hell, what was he supposed to do? This wasn't just some typical gorgeous Newport bimbo, this was Taylor, **his** Taylor.

Denying her was like denying sunlight.

''Hey, guys.'' Summer's voice broke some of the spell. That was the key, then. If he could focus on other people, on everyone but _**her,**_ he could do this. ''This is Taylor Townsend. Taylor, you know Seth Cohen, right?''

''Of course.'' Taylor reached out and shook his brother's hand, not even looking at him. She was doing better than he was. Of course,** she'd** had some warning. ''Nice to finally make your acquaintance.'' Much as he wanted to dredge up resentment towards her for springing this on him, he needed all his concentration to keep control of himself. It wasn't just her presence, although that was intoxicating enough. It wasn't having her nearby; it was having her nearby with their _pool table_ not ten feet away.

''Always glad to meet new people.'' Seth grinned widely, obviously enthusiastic at gaining another potential friend. ''Or old people that I've never spoken to before. And by old I mean people I know. Well, not really know; more like I've seen you around and you've apparently seen me and……''

''I think she gets the idea, Seth.'' Anna put in, stepping forward and sticking out her hand. ''Anna Stern.'' The two girls shook hands, giving a good impression of never having laid eyes on each other before. Ryan steeled himself and shrugged, jamming his hands in his pockets. He knew it was a little rude, not to shake her hand, but he just didn't trust himself to touch her bare skin without giving the whole game away.

''Hey.'' Seth gave him a disbelieving look, Summer was glaring at him. He'd take that, he'd take that any day rather than have her find out what was really going on.

''Guess they're not big in manners in Chino.'' The brunette groused at him, motioning the new member of their group to sit down.

''That's Ryan Atwood. You've probably heard a lot of rumors about him, most of which are blatant lies and innuendo; he's really quite harmless. And quiet, very quiet. Seriously, don't take it personally.'' His brother was giving him a hard look, apparently trying to hint that he should be nicer to the new girl. He shrugged again, not wanting to get into his reasoning.

The others talked about school and social committee and the coming Sadie Hawkins dance. His heart started pounding, caught between the impossible hope of_** her**_ asking him and **knowing** that it'd be Anna. Taylor confessed that she would only be attending in her capacity as social chair; because her mother didn't allow her to date. He nodded in agreement with everyone's opinion that such a situation 'sucked', gritting his teeth against the things he **wanted** to say about that bitch. At least she let her daughter attend 'school functions'. Painful as events in Newport usually were, he was actually looking forward to it; because it would afford him an opportunity to see _**her.**_ Maybe they'd be able to sneak in a dance? He could ask for a dance with Summer, to help cover.

Somehow, Ryan made it through the break without revealing anything. From the looks his brother had been shooting him, though; he'd better come up with a reason **why** he'd been so distracted. Even for him, he hadn't said much. In fact, he'd probably said a total of three words once Taylor had joined them. He just hadn't trusted his voice, been too sure he'd husk something at her in a sultry tone, say something teasingly inappropriate. Keeping his mouth shut was an easy thing, for him; but sometimes, often at the worst possible point, he'd shoot off with what he was really thinking. He'd done it with AJ, when Dawn was kicking him out; he didn't want to do it here, with_** her**_. There was too much at stake for him to take the risk, so he just didn't say anything at all. Safer that way.

Lunch, though, was gonna be hell. If he'd had** this** much trouble keeping a handle on how strongly she affected him for a short fifteen minute break, it was going to be pure torture holding it together for forty-five minutes. Maybe he should plan on pacing out his food so he could have a conveniently full mouth for the entire time. He could use the excuse of being hungry; because he actually was.

In fact, he was _starving._

Just not for food.

--xxx—

''Are you mad at me?'' Taylor went on before he could react, rushing to make her apologies so that he could forgive her **(if** he was going to forgive her……. he **had** to forgive her) that much sooner. ''It's just, when Summer suggested being friends, I didn't think she meant _right away._ I thought we'd hang out more after school, and then she'd introduce me in maybe a few weeks. I honestly didn't know she was going to do that **today;** you know I would've warned you, and I'm sorry that……'' His arms came around her; she wrapped hers around his ribs, burying her face in his chest.

''You're crazy, you know that?'' Ryan whispered it into her hair, sounding amused and affectionate; but not mad. But if he wasn't mad, then why had he been so distant all day? He hadn't even glanced her way_** once**_ after that first, startled look; when Summer had brought her over during the morning break. Could he have seriously been **that** flustered at having her nearby? It was a heady thought, nearly as heady as being once more pressed against his body. ''I've been thinking about this all day.'' He murmured, his tone one of deep satisfaction.

''Mmmmm.'' She snuggled into his embrace, feeling all her fears leaving her. It didn't matter that they were still in the entranceway, with the door wide open; or that their plans for the evening wouldn't be as nakedly fun as she wanted. All that mattered was that he was **here**, with her, and that they had at least three hours before he had to go home. ''Summer's going to get her father to talk to my Mom about letting me date.'' He made an enquiring grunt, letting her go so he could close the door. ''Oh, not you specifically. I doubt _anyone_ could convince her to let me go out with 'the bad boy from Chino'.'' He gave her a rakish leer in response to her teasing tone, a not-so-innocent grin that made her belly melt with the knowledge of just how 'bad' a boy he could be. ''Stop that.'' She scolded him, turning to lead him into the living room so he couldn't see her smile. How amazing was it that he could make her feel sexy and desirable with just a look? Her confidence soared as she laid out the new possibilities Doctor Roberts' assistance opened up for them. ''He's a plastic surgeon. That carries weight in my mother's circles; and if he tells her it's cruel not to let me date, well…….''

''It can't be that easy.'' He shook his head, frowning with that set expression he got whenever her mother (or his past) came up. Seeing the tight and angry look on his face now, she wondered how she'd ever mistaken his distance earlier that day for ire. Of course, considering how (unfairly) hot he got when he was pissed, that might've just been wishful thinking on her part. She yanked her mind out of his jeans and back to the conversation at hand.

''Oh, it won't be.'' She tried to keep her tone upbeat as she took a seat on the couch, snacks already spread out across the coffee table in anticipation of his arrival. It was entirely possible that just the mention of her getting a life would be enough to make her mother send her off to an all-girls boarding school; but there was also the possibility that this plan would **work**. ''But having someone suggest that she won't be seen as the perfect mother she likes to think she is…….'' Taylor ignored the rampant disbelief on his face, soldiering on determinedly. ''……will, in all likelihood, force her to let me start dating. Best case scenario, she goes off on a rant and says I can 'whore around' all I want; which means we can move things out into the open. More likely, however, is that she'll give me a list of 'approved' boys; probably the sons of people she wants to impress.'' Ryan sat slowly down, his hands clenched at his sides, fury evident in every line of his body. She waited, hearing him gentle his breathing, watching his fingers uncurl. Witnessing his (somewhat astounding) control of his temper put her in mind of other situations (naked situations) where he'd mastered himself with the same quiet strength; which was **so** not where her mind needed to be, right then.

''I can't believe she treats you like………'' He turned confused blue eyes towards her, irritated with her mother on her behalf. A gentle heat wrapped around her heart, squeezing a silent gasp from her at his next words. ''Doesn't she know how amazing you are?''

''Oh, Ryan.'' She shifted over and snuggled into him again, letting the comfort of his embrace wash over her with the thrill of what he'd said. Granted, she hadn't known him that long (had it really only been eleven days?), but she could already tell that words weren't his thing; thus making his observation that she was 'amazing' doubly precious. ''Mother's only interest in me is how I reflect on her reputation; kind of like making sure she wears the right designer to her parties.'' His arms tightened briefly, a short growl of discontent rumbling under her cheek. Time for a mild subject change, she decided. If he got all ticked and sexy again, she wouldn't be responsible for her actions. ''If she doesn't give me free reign, we can still work things out. Either I find someone 'worse' than you, or I date and dump so many 'acceptable' boys I get a rep as a complete slut. End result in both cases: we end up 'officially' dating.''

''Sounds good.'' Something about the plan was bothering him, she could tell by the slight note of tension in his voice. Sighing, she straightened back up, scooting back over to her side of the sofa. He gave her a pleading-puppy look when she moved away, but she knew they needed to minimize their physical contact, or things would get out of hand and they'd end up having to pull back before it got disgusting and then they'd spend the rest of the night twitchy and frustrated because they couldn't; not right now.

''What's wrong? And don't say you're 'fine'. '' Taylor eyed him as he bit the inside of his lip, gaze going internal. She waited as patiently as she could for him to speak, knowing that if she questioned him with her own theories (and fears) he'd get all caught up in reassuring her, and she'd never find out what he was_ really_ upset about. Just as she was about to start pestering him anyway, he huffed out a discontented breath and slouched down into the couch cushions.

''I don't ……… it's not………thinking of you and……..'' He went silent again, crossing his arms unhappily over his chest. Something about his body language struck her and she nearly laughed aloud. He was pouting, he was **actually** pouting; and not because they couldn't have sex. No, Ryan was pouting because he apparently didn't like the thought of her dating someone else; even for pretense.

''Well, I'm not exactly thrilled with Anna being known as your 'girlfriend', you know.'' She didn't snipe the words as harshly as she wanted to, because she knew the arrangement with their lesbian friend was a good idea. Everyone benefited, she was just going to have to get used the flares of jealousy. A little vindictively, she hoped her mother would go for the 'approved' list of guys scenario; so that he could see how she felt, watching the blonde girl in the place that was rightfully hers.

''But Anna doesn't want me.'' As if that made a difference! She re-focused her hazel eyes on him and saw that he wasn't trying to belittle her envy, or make excuses for his own situation. ''Any guy who gets near you…….'' He shrugged, smiling at her with that sexy grin again. She dropped her gaze to the sofa, blinking back a surge of giddy delight. His actions had shown he found her irresistible, but that he obviously expected every** other** guy to have the same reaction was flattering beyond all poetry. Breathing was becoming an issue, she had to break the mood a little.

And she had the perfect in-joke to do it with.

''I've only broken one boy's wrist, so far; but I'm sure I can do it again, if called for.''

He only laughed for a little while, but she congratulated herself on making him laugh at all. Brooding may be hot, but they needed more than sex and drama if they were going to make this relationship work. At least they had some things in common; like an interest in Asian cinema. She was still smiling as she motioned towards the anime and suggested (trying to make him laugh again) that they start viewing the somewhat violent films for 'moves' she could use to fend off unwanted attention. The plan didn't work, because Ryan's eyes glazed over a bit, staring at her, and she realized he must be envisioning her kicking some faceless jock's butt. She poked him, bringing him out of his little fantasy and back to the task of selecting a movie to watch.

In this instance, it looked like Anna was right.

Boys were _**weird**_.

--xxx—

It had been the longest week of her entire life.

Not only had she had to wait for her body to come back under control (whose stupid idea was **that**? Not fun, God!) but she also had Summer planning activities designed to help Taylor 'get a life' and it was really hard to say 'no' when she was finally making friends. Ryan had even managed to talk to her without giving himself away, though he was still prone to avoiding her gaze and had even taken to wearing loose-fitting pants. Their 'study dates' were torturous exercises in self-control, ending early more often than not; when the anime failed to distract from their mutual attraction and desire.

That was then, though; this was now.

Taylor barely let him get in the door, she just grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the stairs. He wasn't fighting her at all, thankfully. Slamming the door, he followed along after her enthusiastically. Her pace must've been a little too slow for his mood, however, because, when they reached the stairs, he swung her up over one shoulder (making her squeal his name and giggle) and took them two at a time, his hand squeezing her butt as he shifted his grip to keep her balanced. Ryan stumbled a little upon reaching the top, probably due to her sliding her fingers down the back of his jeans to discover (to her delight) that he'd decided to go commando tonight. One less piece of fabric to contend with, she smiled to herself, pulling his tee-shirt free of his pants and caressing his lower back. Minimal fuss was why she was wearing nothing but a robe, after all; nice to see he'd had the same idea.

Grabbing his shirt as he set her on her feet was intended to make him struggle free of the cloth, gaining her the time needed to make it into the bedroom. She hadn't counted, however, on the sheer animal magnetism of **him**; of how watching him take his shirt off would mesmerize her completely. Toned muscle flexed and released, her gaze mapping his torso with rampant desire, his shirt falling to the floor as if in slow motion. Blue eyes burning at her, he crushed his lips to hers, hands gripping her shoulders firmly. All the pent-up frustration of the past week rocketed through her with the silken touch of his mouth, she grabbed his jeans by the belt loops and pulled hard; pressing her body to him eagerly. Nothing mattered now but getting his pants off, her fingers shook as she fumbled with button and zipper.

Ryan seemed equally driven, yanking at her robe with rough hands, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and groaning when she returned the favor. She could feel his need through his jeans, the throbbing between her legs matching rhythm with the pulse under her fingers. Finally, he got her robe open, his mouth ravishing her neck and shoulders as he pressed her to the wall with his body. Familiar wrapping against the back of her hand told her his hands had briefly traveled to the pockets of the pants she'd just gotten open. Releasing him and applying the all-important latex passed in a blur, time slowing back to normal as he lifted her into position. Looking down, bracing her hands on his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his hips; she moaned with deep satisfaction of the sight of his length sliding into her at long last.

Pleasure seemed too mild a word to describe what she was feeling, ecstasy came close, nirvana even closer. His lips burned trails of sensation along her jaw, her neck; she buried her hands in his golden hair to return the open-mouthed affection, to nip at the rounded steel of his shoulder as the first climax shot through her. Taylor looked down to see his well-defined muscles working, to confirm the reality of the delightful friction stroking in and out of her. Her enjoyment ratcheted up another level, she tried to increase the force of his thrusting by arching against him; pushing him towards her with the pressure of her calves on his ass. He groaned, speeding up, grip tightening on her thighs.

Kissing Ryan while climaxing had to be right at the top of her list of favorite things; not that there was anything she'd_ ever_ done that was even close to having sex with_** him**_. He shuddered against her, his voice trembling as he came, whispering her name brokenly into her mouth. From such signs she was able to guess at what he was feeling; something similar to her own intense attachment, she believed. That belief was going to have to hold her, she knew. With his past (and emotional issues), it would be quite some time before he was ready to** say** anything in regards to their emotional connection.

Until that day, she'd just have to be satisfied with what he (most likely inadvertently) revealed when they celebrated their (awesome, amazing, mind-blowing) _physical_ connection.

He'd fully intended to wait until they reached the bedroom. The plan had been to undress Taylor slowly, to torture her with pleasure until she screamed in orgasm. To take his fucking time, for once, and show her (at least physically) how much he appreciated her. A week of keeping his hands (occasionally** applying** his hands) to himself, however, had weakened his control to the point that, when he laid eyes on the barely-dressed auburn beauty, he'd snapped. Of course, his self-control was **never** very strong where _**she**_ was concerned. She just** got** to him, past all his defense mechanisms and protective distances; right into his head, right into his hear………an irresistible force meeting his immovable object and melting him like Silly Putty.

At least he'd made it upstairs before fucking her up against the wall, he thought wryly. That's something.

The silence as they gathered the discarded clothes (and he pried his shoes off) was oddly comfortable. He followed that fantastic ass to her bedroom, dragging his gaze up to get a look at the rest of the room as she tossed her armful of fabric aside. There was a door in the left wall that was obviously the bathroom, he could see the tile floor through the half-open doorway. In the right wall was an open door to a huge walk-in closet, a full-length mirror on the inside of it. Both to the left and right there were desks. One had a computer and some textbooks he recognized, the other had little bottles and racks of jewelry. Obviously a girl's room; despite the fact that many of the posters were the same exact ones that decorated his brother's walls. There were two main differences between this and every other girl's room he'd ever been in. One was that there were no stuffed animals or dolls in the place at **all**. There wasn't even a cleared area on the shelves (or dresser) where they would've been. The second difference was the bed.

It was a queen-size four-poster, with a white canopy and flimsy-looking drape-like cloth hanging down; a wrought silver headboard worked into a winding pattern of roses, the whole thing made up with white sheets and a white comforter with white roses embroidered onto it.

It was honestly a little intimidating.

Of course, one look into wide hazel eyes and he forgot all about the differences between them, the dissonance of his upbringing and hers. All he saw when he looked at her was the girl who wanted to be with him for **him**, who accepted and understood who he was and made him want to change (to be worthy of _**her)**_ anyway. A girl who opened him up in ways he'd never thought he'd experience; and that was with his clothes** on**. What she did to him with his clothes **off**…………….

Not even the wildest Penthouse-inspired fantasy had prepared him for sex with _**Taylor**_.

Laying her down among her sheets (which probably had a thread count over five hundred) was like immersing himself in clouds. He sighed at the appropriateness of it, trailing kisses down the body of his personal angel, his ecclesiastic addiction. Ryan worshipped her with his mouth, pausing at each pulse point to nibble at her silken skin, to press his tongue to her flesh until she moaned or gasped or cried out. By the time he started lapping at her juices, she was writhing and cursing at him in French. At least, it **sounded** like cursing. The scratches on his head and shoulders from her sharp little nails made it likely, the way she clenched around his tongue and fingers in orgasm gave it cause.

Once more safely covered, he slid slowly into Taylor, groaning at the tight warmth enfolding him. She whimpered, arching up and clutching at his shoulders, taking him into her folds completely. He couldn't hold back the hoarse whisper of her name, gaining her attention; feeling the hazel heat on his face like sunlight. He thrust deeper, harder; pushing himself up onto his palms to add force to his movements. She caressed his chest and stomach with tender hands, her hips bucking in response to his actions, her eyes locked on his. Her fingers tightened on his waist, she gasped his name and called on God, pulling his lips down to hers with nothing but the way she looked at him.

She was **his**, all his; but he was beginning to realize that _he_ was, just as unalterably; entirely _**hers.**_

And **that** thought pushed him over the edge into the most intensely satisfying climax of his life, moaning her name into her silken hair as she joined him in orgasm; their mutual pleasure draining strength from them both, leaving them limp and trembling in each other's arms.

Waiting for the energy to move, Ryan decided that there was nothing better in the entire world than this; than_ belonging_ here in this moment, with this girl.

Than belonging to Taylor.

--xxx--

He'd known 'Sadie Hawkins dance' meant that the girls were calling the shots. He'd thought it was just that they were doing the inviting, though; not that tradition would be set on it's ear for the entire evening. The girls were the ones asking the guys to dance, fetching the punch, choosing the songs; which basically meant every song was slow and sappy. He didn't have to listen to Seth bitch about the 'God-awful depressing' tunes (though he thought they had a lot in common with his brother's music) because Summer was keeping her guy on the dance floor almost non-stop.

Ryan had only stepped out for one of every three dances, accepting offers from the girls that weren't drooling **too** blatantly at him. Anna didn't seem to mind, she wasn't much for dancing either. After one turn around the floor, she begged out of the evening's obligations; networking her way into the Harbor social scene and leaving the field clear for what seemed like every unattached girl (and some attached ones, damnit) in the entire place to hit on him. Girls with boyfriends he stalled until their guys came over, girls that were already drunk or giggled too often he pretended not to understand that they wanted to dance with him and girls like Holly and Jess he turned down flat, as rudely as he could manage. No matter how much he wanted to have a believable cover for when Taylor finally asked him to dance, there was no **way** he was going anywhere, no matter how public, with** that** type. The type that Trey had once described as being able to transmit STD's by shaking your hand. Theresa had put it more succinctly: skank.

''Hey, Ryan.'' There she was, his personal siren; and he nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw what she was wearing. ''Want to dance?''

He nodded dumbly, eyes traveling up and down; unable to believe she was actually wearing the denim skirt, that white blouse with the roses stitched around the red plastic buttons, the wooden shoes with the red straps. The music had a definite Latino beat and he bit his lip on a moan as she flowed into his arms. Thankfully, she wasn't dancing as close as she had in Mexico; he guessed her little trip down memory lane didn't include the public make-out session they'd ended up in after their first explosive kiss.

Taylor claimed him for the next song as well, asking Seth to dance after **that** in an effort to throw off any suspicious observers. Ryan needed the break anyway, his blood pounding from the convergence of _**her**_ presence and the memories her outfit was evoking. He couldn't pull his eyes off her as she followed the pattern of the dance in his brother's arms. He supposed he was going to have to get used to it; her mother had called the night before to give his lover the 'approved' list of 'datable' boys.

Surprisingly, Seth (as the grandson of Caleb Nichol) was on the list.

**Un**surprisingly, he wasn't.

So he guessed that he was going to have to accustom himself to seeing her in someone else's arms; hopefully for a very, very brief time. His eyes narrowed as he watched the pair. Something the other boy said must've been funny, because the auburn beauty laughed, nose crinkling in that adorable way that was supposed to be reserved for him and him alone. His jaw clenched as he glared across the school's ballroom, so focused in his irritation that he didn't notice anyone standing beside him until there was a sharp blow to the back of his head.

''Ow!'' He shifted his glare to the side, rubbing his head, frowning when he saw who had assaulted him. ''Summer? The hell?'' Fuck. She hit harder than she stood.

''Bad Chino!'' The brunette hissed at him. She looked ticked. ''Have some class and stop staring at Taylor's butt.'' Uh-oh. This was the last subject he wanted the little dynamo on, his interest in her new friend.

''I'm not……..'' Deny, deny. It wouldn't be very convincing, but there was a slim chance it would work.

''Please.'' So much for the slim chance, he thought desperately. Time to come up with a cover story. ''Are you honestly trying to tell me you weren't checking her out at soccer practice either?'' Good thing he hadn't been drinking anything, he would've choked at the mention of soccer practice. The only time he could remember Taylor being around when he was at practice was that first one, where he'd tackled that jerk Brad and ended up under her naked …………

Okay, he had to respond before she noticed his eyes glazing over and got suspicious.

Or, rather, **more** suspicious.

''What?'' How much did she know? Or suspect? Summer's arms were crossed and she was scowling at him in an exasperated fashion. She couldn't know **too** much. For one thing, they'd been_ really_ careful and for another, if she knew, she'd look infinitely more smug. ''What are you…….?''

''Taylor can read lips, we totally 'heard' you asking the guys on the team who 'the fox in yellow' was.'' Shit. He was so busted. Even now, his gaze was wandering towards the dance floor, seeking her out like a compass searching for magnetic north. He'd just located _**her**_ when Summer struck again. ''Chino!'' This time she smacked him on the arm, shaking her hand out after connecting with his bicep. Served her right, he thought. She shouldn't be hitting him in the first place. ''Bad Chino! You're here with Anna, remember?''

''Of course I remember.'' Ryan nodded to where his 'date' was deep in discussion with a couple student council members and half the debate team. The blonde girl looked like she was having a blast, challenging these kids to think; a feat he would've bet huge very few of them were capable of. ''She said to dance.'' He shrugged, pretending disinterest so he wouldn't overdo in his attempt to throw the girl off track. ''I'm dancing.''

''With a girl you spent the last two weeks barely speaking to?'' Her tone was skeptical, but there was doubt in her eyes. He pressed his advantage, showing her the hole in that particular point.

"I barely speak.'' She couldn't call him on** that**, she'd griped about it often enough before she'd figured out that he wasn't being anti-social or rude; he just didn't have anything to say. ''I thought you and Seth wanted me to be nicer to Taylor……'' good, his voice hadn't cracked or deepened when he spoke _**her**_ name ''………help her 'learn to date' or something like that?'' He figured reminding Summer of_** her**_ 'situation' couldn't hurt; and it would certainly put a sympathetic (rather than a lascivious) light on his behavior that evening.

''Date, not get leered at.'' Summer snapped, but there was no force behind it; he could hear the doubt in her tone. ''Behave, okay?'' She glared at him, and he remembered what Seth had said about rage blackouts and the pain when she'd hit him (both times). She appeared to be buying his excuse, though; so he could yield on the 'leering' thing. ''Try to be less Chino and more…….…Newport.'' He snorted, knowing that most of the people in this town had all the morals of two dogs in heat, and about as much shame. ''Okay, try and be more of a gentleman, then.'' The girl huffed at him, putting her hands on her hips; probably preparing to kick him in the shins unless he agreed. Those shoes she was wearing looked like they had sharp toes, too.

Time for a strategic withdrawal.

Lose the battle, win the war.

''Right.'' Ryan held his hands up in a gesture of surrender and kept his smirk of victory internal. ''Perfect gentleman.'' At least she was off the scent about him being drawn to Taylor. She seemed to be going with the theory that he was back-sliding to his 'Chino-ness'; ogling randoms at a school function.

''Ryan?''

Turning towards the girl (he thought he knew her from Literary Composition class) who called his name, he missed the look of calculating assessment that crossed the tiny brunette's face; being too caught up in trying to soothe the shyer girl's (whose name turned out to be Connie) feelings to pay attention to a discussion he considered finished. Stepping out for the next song with her, he felt confident and relaxed. He'd done a turn with so many of the not-so-popular crowd tonight (including this little bookworm, who'd count this one dance as a 'great adventure' and be happy), it wouldn't be any great note that he'd also swung **Taylor** around the floor a time or two. No one had any reason to think his interest in _**her**_ was anything more than that of a friend.

No reason at all.

--xxx--

_-- tbc –_


	3. dinne and a show

**A/N: **Okay, sorry for the hideously long wait. I had this flu bug I just couldn't shake and my muse has a snot-phobia…….Not that I blame her, Ew. Also, not knowing much about Soccer (or any sport, really) so forgive if I gloss majorly over those parts.

Nods this chap to Krisz for her locale suggestions.

--xxx—

''Why do you have Cohen on this list?'' Summer frowned down at the paper where Taylor had written the names her mother had given her, this past weekend. Remembering what else had happened this weekend (after the dance and just yesterday) had made her dizzy and distracted all day. She could barely wait for tonight's 'study date'.

''I crossed him off.'' Taylor glanced and saw that, yes, Seth's name still had a line through it. The two of them were sitting alone during morning break (for once), watching Anna and the two boys talk about comics from across the room. She really wasn't all that interested in the main-stream stuff that tended to make up most of their discussion, anyway. After learning that she now had qualified permission to date, Summer had insisted that they start 'the elimination process' to find her a guy. Thus, she and her new friend were making plans regarding the list of 'approved' boys.

Friend. That was a word and concept that she was still getting used to.

Taylor Townsend had _**friends**_.

It was all she could do not to sing and clap her hands and dance about (constantly) from sheer joy. Add in the electric thrill of _**his**_ attentions; and she no longer had any need for caffeine.

''Not what I meant.'' At least the girl wasn't looking at her suspiciously, Taylor thought to herself. Doubtfully, yes; suspiciously, no. ''Isn't he your type? I mean: he's smart and likes comics and weird cartoons and…….''

''Summer.'' She sighed, turning her attention reluctantly away from _**him**_ and towards the other girl. Watching Ryan was fun; getting **caught** watching him? Not so much. ''This isn't a list of guys I** like**; it's a list of the boys my mother says I can date so that she has an excuse to get in good with their parents.'' Her lover wasn't the only one incensed by the way her mother treated her, she saw. Anger and nothing else (she was particularly glad to see the absence of pity) filled the other's face.

''Your mother ……'' The brunette didn't finish the sentence, shaking her head and clenching her fists. Obviously trying to get a handle on her temper, the girl blew out an exasperated breath and took a different tack. ''Well, are there any guys on this thing who **are** your type? Because if _Cohen's_ not, I don't have a clue as to ……''

''Seth's not crossed out because he isn't my type.'' This time the look she was given was fearful; she reminded herself that Summer, for all her confidence and popularity, was as new to world of 'boyfriends' as she was. Steady ones she actually cared about, that is; and not just 'party buds'. ''I crossed him off because **you're** dating him. I have my faults, but I don't poach.'' She put a touch of offense into her tone, knowing that her new friend had only thought it was a possibility because of the crowd she was used to hanging out with: Holly, Jess, Luke; the whole Harbor 'social elite' set. None of **those** people would've thought twice (or seen anything wrong) with stealing someone else's boy or girl friend. Nor would they have understood why anyone would be angry or hurt about such a betrayal. She mentally shook off the bitter thoughts, concentrating on what had to be done to achieve her goal of dating Ryan. ''I haven't really thought about my 'type' before.'' Stark disbelief lit the brown eyes and she blushed, a little. ''Yes, okay; I think about boys. I am** that** much of a normal teenage girl. Since I was restricted from dating, though; I've pretty much kept it to famous people: movie stars, political figures, poets…..''

''Well, that gives us a place to start.'' Summer scratched her own, darker line through her boyfriend's name, seeming to be reassured that Taylor wouldn't be attempting any man-stealing. ''So. Are you an Ashton Kutcher girl or a Ben Affleck groupie?''

''No, if we're going with movie stars; I'm more of a Matt Damon, Brad Pitt, Robert Redford……'' With a jolt, she realized that every name she'd listed was a blonde hunk, just like _**him**_. Maybe she should toss in a few brunettes she liked? Just to confuse matters? ''…..Johnny Depp, Colin Farrell, Orlando Bloom type. Guys like that.''

''So, basically; blonde, smart, well-built bad boys who **aren't** really bad boys.'' Brown eyes flicked across the room and specutively back to her. Taylor tried not to flinch at the raised brow, counting on her natural confidence to carry her through this blunder. ''Sounds a little familiar.'' Drat. This is what came of spending time with smart people: they totally figured things out.

''Don't be silly.'' She kept her hands in her lap (so the other girl couldn't see them shaking) and her hazel eyes calmly fixed across the table. One glance across the room, towards _**him**_, and she'd be **so** busted. ''Ryan's with Anna.''

''Yeah, right.'' Summer gave a very unladylike snort, crossing her arms and sitting back in her seat smugly. ''Those two have, like, zero chemistry. Seriously; _**blizzards**_ have more sparkage.''

''That doesn't mean …….'' Taylor needed to get the girl back on track, and off this most dangerous of subjects. Plan, plan, she needed a plan……

''He was checking you out.'' Okay, strangling Ryan. That was a plan. Of all the stupid things to get caught doing………She pushed aside the fact that she'd been doing the same thing (checking him out), minutes before. That was different. She hadn't been caught. He was **so** dead when she got a hold of him. ''At that soccer practice, the Sadie Hawkins dance ……he thinks you're hot, Townsend.''

''That's beside the point.'' She snapped, irritated at the girl's insistence on what she wanted to shout from the rooftops. Taylor Townsend, the girl everyone (until recently) dismissed as a total freak and loser; had bagged the hottest, most loyal, smart, fun, witty, sexy, amazing guy (did she say hot?) to hit Harbor in it's entire history and she had to pretend to date all these jerks just to maneuver her mother into a position of **not **ruining her life when the facts came to light. ''Even if he was, by some miracle, on that list; I still wouldn't do that to Anna.'' Taylor stood, channeling her frustration at not being able to be honest (and eventually having to spend time with guys who'd called her 'Dorksend') into a convincingly exasperated and offended manner. ''I'm hurt you'd even think that I would.''

That should put an end to the suggestive comments about her and Ryan, she thought, escaping to her next class. Summer will apologize (or make it up to her with a shopping trip or something), and the strategy to force Veronica to accept _**him**_ as her boyfriend would (hopefully) be back into play.

--xxx—

''What's with Dorksend?''

''Who cares, man. She's a freak.''

''Pretty hot freak.''

''Gonna do her?''

It was a good thing the water bottle was empty, Ryan thought. Refreshing as the water bursting over his hand would've been when he crumpled the plastic in his fist, it would've also attracted attention; and he had enough eyes on him right now. His first game for Harbor was actually the third game of the season, the dreaded Pacific Conquistadors their opponents. The snarling comments and dark looks had stopped midway through the first quarter, when he'd taken a pass from Luke (he'd been the only one open) and scored the team's first goal. It was amazing, how quickly he went from hated outsider to treasured teammate with one (admittedly difficult) kick. He was actually having fun, when the coach had pulled him over during a timeout and asked him if he could get 'his cheering section' to 'tone it down'. Startled, he'd looked to where the man was pointing and seen the Cohen's, Summer, Anna, and _**Taylor**_; all wearing Harbor polo shirts and holding signs with his jersey number on it.

Summer's even said (in maroon glitter) 'Go, Chino!', which meant he really had to find a way to kill her.

Right after he throttled Sandy (for threatening to sue the ref for prejudice and screaming in legalese whenever the man made a decision favoring Pacific) and smothered Seth (for starting a chant of 'Atwood, he's **so** good' that Holly and her crowd wouldn't stop yelling) and even Kirsten was on his list (for coming down to the field and mothering him, asking if he had enough to drink and fussing over how sweaty he was getting).

They were humiliating the shit out of him (the rest of the team was really having trouble with 'the giggles' during the pauses in game play) and he really wished they wouldn't stop.

''There she goes again.''

''Nice rack for a freak.''

''Ass ain't bad either.''

He followed the direction of the other's gazes, and saw Taylor jumping up and down, clapping her hands; celebrating the play they'd just finished, blocking the Conquistador's most recent attempt at a goal. Swallowing an affectionate smile was easy, his team mate's comments made smiling the last thing he wanted to do. The girl had been cheering for every single Harbor play, booing the Pacific team with her usual perky enthusiasm. It was a clever move, no one would notice _**her**_ supporting **him** in this 'school spirit' attitude; but it was pissing him off, because all the guys running around the field next to him couldn't help but notice _**her.**_

And they were noticing far **too much** about her for his peace of mind.

It was a good thing the other team was so tough; it was a fine distraction and gave him a focus for his anger. Channeling his irritation with his fellow 'Pirates' into his playing was giving him a rep as an aggressive player, a real 'go-getter': the coach was ecstatic. Especially since the rest of the team kept pace with him, not willing to let him show them up in front of their chief rivals and (more importantly) their girlfriends (those that had them) and families. The gap between scores was growing the longer the game went on; which meant Taylor was cheering more, which caused the guys to make more comments, which led him to put even **more** energy into the game in an attempt (to shut them the_ fuck_ up) to hang onto his temper.

Which was how he ended up (in smooth co-operation with Luke) making the game's spectacular winning play that resulted in both of them being buried under their back-slapping, head-rubbing victorious teammates.

It was a heady feeling: being accepted, succeeding, earning some respect that didn't have anything to do with committing a felony; he lost himself in it for a minute, laughing and smiling with the others on the way to the locker room. Even the mention of the victory party didn't faze him, his new status got his friends (excepting Summer, she was always invited) an automatic invitation as 'his posse'. Everything was good.

Until after the showers.

''Hey, Atwood.'' He looked up from tying his shoes, wondering what Brad and his bunch wanted. This was the same group that had been making the remarks about Taylor, he remembered; and just like that, his rage was back. He was careful as he straightened, trying not to be too obvious about how much he wanted to pummel them all into bloody puddles.

''Hey.'' That was good, no one backed up or narrowed their eyes at him. Of course, this was the most clueless section of the student body; so maybe he wasn't as smooth as he thought.

''You're bringing that group you hang with, right?'' He nodded, wondering where this was going. Probably they didn't want him to bring Seth or something. ''Townsend's been spending a lot of time with you guys.'' Oh shit. The sons of bitches were circling and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Wait, maybe there was.

''She's a friend of Summer's.'' He gave them all a measuring glare, a warning look that threatened the tiny brunette's infamous rage blackouts. Ryan had the satisfaction of seeing at least three of them swallow hard, suddenly nervous. He twisted the knife. ''A very** good** friend of Summer's. They shop. And spa.'' Ah, the dreaded spa. That did it. Every single one of them backed up a step; Brad even twitched and wiped his hands on his pants.

''Well, good.'' The guy cleared his throat anxiously, exchanging uneasy glances with his buddies. ''That's …….good.'' There was a long pause, he crossed his arms and waited them out. ''Uhm…..see you there.'' It was hard not to laugh as they practically skittered away in fear of his brother's girlfriend. Actually, that wasn't so funny.

Summer was scary.

Of course, for him, the fear factor had more to do with her suspicions about him and Taylor. All this past week, she'd been watching both of them like a hawk; causing him to cancel a few 'study dates' to try and throw her off. Anna had taken to sitting closer to him, coming over to the Cohen's for video game marathons and basically giving a very good impression of being his girlfriend. With Taylor trying to choose her first 'date' from the approved list, it looked like it might actually be working.

But the more successful 'the plan' was, the more he fucking hated it.

He wanted to walk the halls with her, to have lunch with her; to sit with her in the student lounge and work with her on class projects. He wanted to take her to dinner, to the movies, bring her home to the Cohen's and escort her to every stupid Newport function there was. He wanted to show the idiots who'd called her names and scorned her friendship just what they were missing. He wanted everyone (especially her mother) to _**see **_what a fantastic, smart, beautiful, wonderfully crazy sexpot she was; and that she had chosen him, despite how different they were.

Most of all, he just wanted to spend some time with her.

The sex was great. Shit, the sex was unforgettable and addictive as all hell. He'd never had anything like it and had to fight back another surge of resentment (_stupid_ _Summer and her stupid suspicions_) at not getting it as often as he'd like. But what he really missed was just **talking** to her, hearing that private little lift to her voice that was exclusively his; a tone no one else had ever heard.

Ryan watched Seth dancing with Summer, his brother obviously having the time of his life. The party was the typical scene, minus the cocaine on the coffee table. Chip's folks leaned more towards the grass side of the drug spectrum, it seemed. Swearing that he didn't want a repeat of their last beach party 'adventure', his friend was sticking rather firmly to soda and water. His date was doing the same and **no one** dared to tease the 'geek' when that little dynamo was practically glued to his side. Anna had made herself comfortable at the poker table, giving him an evil wink as she shuffled the deck and stole glances down the skimpy tops of her increasingly drunken opponents.

Taylor had danced with Seth (with Summer's permission) for a while, played a round of poker (losing miserably) with Anna, and then said she was going home. No one was sad to see her go (assholes), and Ryan was especially careful to have his back to the door when she left. A massive effort, on his part, because that girl had an unbelievable ass; and he'd gone the past two days not being able to even_** look**_.

So he found himself leaning against the rail of the Saunders' deck with Luke, of all people; giving the guy advice about dealing with an alcoholic. Marissa had finally been allowed to write some letters (he'd returned his, unopened) and she'd apparently sent her ex one in which she forgave him for his 'indiscretions' with Holly. The taller boy actually seemed sincere in his desire to 'make things right' and 'be there as a friend' for the train wreck of a girl they'd wasted so much time fighting over. He wished the other luck, honest in his hope that it was the booze that made her the manipulative drama queen (although he didn't say **that**, specifically) he'd lost any interest in. His cell phone going off gave him the excuse he needed to escape the conversation and the party, the instructions on the text message simple and to the point.

_Walk south. _

Party sounds faded into the background, his eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight as he made his way past the scattered bonfires and into the dark. Soon, the surf was the only thing he could hear, the gentle lapping of the waves hypnotic and soothing. The lifeguard shack was locked up tight, shadows deep along it's sun-worn decking. Someone moved there, stepped into one of the patches of silver light so that he could see her.

''Taylor.'' He didn't run up the ramp, but his hands were shaking when he finally took her face between them and kissed her. She was trembling, too; clutching her small fists in the front of his shirt and pressing herself to him. She moaned under his mouth, thrusting her hips forward insistently. ''Taylor, Taylor, Taylor.'' He murmured it like a prayer into her lips, onto her cheek, along her jaw, and down her neck. Ryan moved around behind her, cupping her breasts, holding her back against him with his tender caressing of her front. ''Taylor.'' He groaned into her ear, unbuttoning her jeans, feeling himself getting hard just holding her whimpering in his arms.

''Ryan.'' She put her hands over his, trying to guide him, trying to turn in his embrace. A shudder went through her as he feathered the fingers of one hand across her stomach, prying up her shirt and sliding them under the waist of her panties. ''Oh, God, Ryan.'' She moaned it, reaching back to wind her own fingers into his hair when his soft touch reached her clit. ''Ryan!'' Warm dampness enfolded one digit, pulsing as he began to frig her in earnest, his other hand already sliding up under her shirt and bra to fondle one breast. ''Ryan! Oh, Ryan!'' Thrusting forward so she could feel the bulge of his need against her ass, he added another finger, continuing to nibble and kiss her neck while he built her pleasure. Arching in his grasp, gasping his name as a strangled scream, she came with shuddering quickness; grabbing the rail of the station's decking with eager hands when he gently urged her forward in the aftermath.

''You're so fucking amazing.'' He mumbled around the condom wrapper, working her jeans down just enough to get the job done; opening his own that same economical distance. ''_**Fuck**_, Taylor.'' Sliding into her folds was better than winning the World Cup, the Olympics; better than any thrill on Earth.** Angels** didn't know bliss this intense. He must've spent too long lost in the feel of her clenching around him, because she suddenly thrust back against him, fingers curling into the wood of the rail. ''Yeah, like that.'' Ryan started to move, sliding his hands up from her hips to cup her breasts beneath the fabrics of her bra (that he hadn't even unclasped) and polo shirt. She turned her head to meet his lips, stealing his breath, leaving him gasping onto the back of her neck as they found their rhythm. He dropped one hand back between her legs, wanting her come again. He loved it when she climaxed, when she became the Taylor only he was allowed to see. She started to shudder again, tightened around him; and he increased his pace. ''_**My**_ Taylor.'' He whispered it onto her shoulder, hoping she wouldn't hear in the jolting union of their orgasms.

--xxx—

_My Taylor._

She'd known he was jealous, she'd have to have been blind not to see it. The way he glared at even _Seth _when he thought no one was looking, the way his eyes burned when he looked at her. He was wildly, possessively, in**sane**ly jealous; and she hadn't even started 'dating' yet.

_My Taylor._

There'd been so much in his voice when he'd spoken; far too much for it to be a chauvinistic claim of ownership, of possession. No, he'd revealed more tonight than he probably realized. Not just with his whispered confession, but with the broken, almost desperate way he'd repeated her name; as if he'd been reassuring himself that she actually existed, that she was real, and with him. Every cry of hers had caused him to shake; to press his lips harder to her skin, to probe her flesh more energetically, to hold her ever tighter until they were both groaning with the exquisite torture of it.

_My Taylor._

They'd reassembled their clothes and moved down to sit on the sand, not wanting to risk splinters in some very uncomfortable places. She'd been lucky that the section of railing she'd gripped had been worn so smooth; her palms weren't even reddened by the friction of the contact. Taylor watched the ocean curl itself into the shore over and over again; comfortable between his legs, resting her shoulders back against his chest. It was odd, how he could be ripping her clothes off one minute; then cradling her in his arms the next; seemingly content to just sit there watching the tide roll in with his hands moving softly up and down her arms.

''My Taylor.'' Ryan stiffened, his breath catching in his throat at her repetition of his words. She turned in the loose circle of his embrace, hands on his thighs as she peered into his face. Fear marked his eyes, coupled with a glimmer of resigned despair. He apparently expected her to be mad, to leave him. Well, he was in for a nice surprise, then. She smiled, turned completely around so that she could place her palms on his chest, holding him in place against the lower wall of the lifeguard station, the decking above their heads throwing them both into shadow. ''Meaning what?'' Shifting up to sit back on her heels, she plucked one of his hands from it's slack grip on her waist and kissed the palm, rubbing her thumb on the inside of his wrist. ''Your sextoy?'' She knew, without a doubt, that wasn't it; but she wanted hear what he'd say.

''No!'' As expected, he cupped her face with his hand, thumb running along her cheekbone. Taylor waited, inching his shirt up with twitches of her thumbs. ''My friend.'' He finally whispered, moving his thumb down to stroke her bottom lip. ''My lover.'' She rewarded this observation by yanking at his shirt; he leaned forward so she could pull it free entirely. ''My temptress, my angel…..'' his lips were on her throat, hands tugging at her shirt until it joined his on the sand beside them. ''…..my siren, my goddess……'' What had happened to her bra? All she knew is that, once her polo shirt was gone, his mouth was closing around her nipple, his fingers working their way towards the front of her jeans.

''Ryan.'' She ducked her head to watch him devouring her chest, running her hands through his hair, over his shoulders, down his back. God, he was so …….built; so handsome, so toned and fit. Beautiful, in that utterly masculine way the Greeks had meant it. ''My stallion, my satyr…..'' she felt him chuckle against her ribcage, the sensation not even remotely ticklish as he opened her jeans once again. ''……my seducer, my stud……'' He pressed the condom into her hand, she stood (backing up so she wouldn't knock her head on the station's deck) to let him remove her remaining clothing completely; unashamed to be naked before his gaze. The expression on his face when he climbed out to join her, discarding his own jeans on the way; was raw and open. To name it now would damage them both, she knew. She gave him his own words back, instead. ''My friend, my lover.'' They stood naked in the moonlight, staring deep into each other with a bond unspoken, unnamed. She reached out and touched the length of him, the _rip _of the condom opening barely heard over the pounding of their hearts. ''My Ryan.'' She whispered it, uncertain of his response to the subtext of what they were saying.

'' _**Yes**_.'' He growled, accepting her claim on him, all of him, even his heart. He lifted her up, but not to enter her, as she expected. Ryan kicked his shirt towards the tide line and her stomach clenched in eager anticipation. He meant to……. Oh God. ''Taylor.'' Still that same guttural tone as he lowered her to the damp sand, his shirt considerately under her hair.

''Ryan!" The sensation of him thrusting into her just as the surf washed over them both was mind-blowing. Had she just come? She didn't know. She was losing anything resembling a grip on conscious thought. Tiny pricks of chill and fire traveled over her skin, making her shake with confused reaction. Water pulled at her legs, moving inside her along with the warm firmness of _**him**_ (what was his name, again?) and making her (come to think of it, what was **her** name?) scream incoherently. Blue held her hazel gaze captive, her fingers were trapped in the hard planes of his muscular back, her legs caught in a erotic tangle around his hips. His lips took hers hostage again and again; now tender, now demanding, now gentle and soft, now hot and hungry.

Wet and sandy hands were on her shoulders, cold salty water caressed and abandoned her from the waist down, warm, living flesh stroked slowly, delightfully, in and out of her. Good, hard weight pressed down upon her, a tender mouth moved over her neck, pulling her earlobe gently between teeth. She felt ancient, connected to the ocean and the earth in an animal rhythm only the heart could understand, only the moon could witness.

The bliss that exploded through them both made her one with the stars as well.

--xxx--

--tbc—hopefully quicker than last time


	4. family dinner

**A/N: **Again, any errors in this I was just too lazy to look up or correct. So just realize it's fan**fiction** and move on.

Kudos to Waltzy and Angel for locales.

--xxx—

Ryan was nervously bored out of his mind. It was a weird feeling, being twitchily watching what he said and wanting, at the same time, to just **say** something to make the conversation more interesting.

Last night had been difficult. Walking Taylor to her car and kissing her good night, wishing he could take her home and rinse the sand from both of them with slow and eager hands. It'd been especially wrenching to watch her go, knowing it'd be **Monday** before he could see her again, what with this stupid 'family dinner' he was stuck in. Okay, so it wasn't _really_ stupid; it was actually one of the things he liked most about the Cohen's: their insistence on taking time to be together as a family, to sit down and share the details of their lives. It was just that the 'detail' he was currently sharing (Anna's status as his girlfriend) was a lie.

Guilt and shame weren't very appetizing condiments.

Making the experience worse was Summer's presence. Seth had whined about the 'rents 'salting his game' by inviting their 'ladies' to dinner, but Ryan knew his brother was actually in heaven: because the lovely brunette hadn't objected to being addressed as 'Seth's girlfriend' by Kirsten. The smile that had lit the other boy's face ever since was seriously starting to get a little creepy. Almost as creepy as the way Summer would watch him, nodding every time he or Anna spoke, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously when she thought he wasn't looking. He hadn't really thought she'd noticed the state of his clothes when they'd dropped her off last night; but her observation this evening (as he was setting the table) about how it was nice to see him sand-free with a shirt on right-side-out proved that theory tragically false.

''Ryan?'' Damnit. He'd been so busy trying to think of something to throw the girl off-track so he could avoid skipping any more study-dates that he'd zoned out on the conversation. Sandy was looking at him concernedly, Kirsten too. Hell, everyone was; although Summer's gaze was more contemplatively smug. He had a sudden urge to shove her head face-down into her spaghetti. He buried the grin at the thought in a sip of tea, raising a questioning eyebrow at his foster father. ''I was just asking; is the class load really that hard? You've been studying an extra three hours almost every night since the semester started.'' Shit. He really needed to make the shift in thinking to plan around people who took notice of his comings and goings, who were sincerely interested in his activities and his life.

Luckily, he had a cover story in mind. He just wished Summer wasn't here, because there was no **way** this wasn't going to make her even more suspicious.

''It's the French.'' He shrugged, poking at his noodles, uncomfortable being the center of attention.

''I still don't see why you're taking it, dude.'' Seth jumped in, re-directing attention away from him. Grateful as he was for the ploy, it caused another jab of guilt to sour his stomach. He set his fork gently down. Of all the people he was keeping this secret from, keeping it from his best friend was turning out to be the hardest. The guy's track record with secrets wasn't actually **that** bad; it was only his involvement with the school's most avid gossip that put this strain on their friendship. ''You speak Spanish, right? So you don't need French for your bi-lingual credit, or to 'broaden your mind', or to help with the ladies…..'' Anna made a face at the remark; from the way the other boy jumped, she or Summer must've kicked him. The guy stirred his noodles, shaking his head to indicate his apparent confusion. ''I'm just not grasping your reasoning, that's all.'' That familiar tone of hurt was back, the same one that showed up every time he refused to talk about his love life with the taller boy. Shame stabbed him in the gut and he sipped more tea, wishing it was something stronger; to brace him, to make him forget the lies he was telling (if only by omission).

''Oriental stuff would be even harder, your school doesn't offer German or Russian, and the Latin class was full.'' Blank looks were traded around, Summer looked completely thrown. Didn't he wish he could throw her off so successfully in regards to other subjects. He shot a significant glance at his foster mother, who frowned for a long moment before smiling.

''Architecture?'' He nodded, touched that she remembered that conversation. Of course, they hadn't really had that many conversations, just the two of them; so he supposed it was an easy memory. Sandy was the only other one who looked like he was getting it, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by Kirsten's next question. ''Why aren't you in AP Math and Science?'' He was reminded of how fiercely she'd fought for him to attend Harbor, and tried to head her off before she went on a crusade against the school's administration for 'holding him back'.

''I think Doctor Kim wants to make sure I can handle a normal class before letting me into the advanced courses.'' He understood the woman's caution, irritating as it was. The test might've been a fluke, after all; she had no guarantee he could sustain that level of academic commitment. It wasn't just rubbing her face in her doubts that made him want to get perfect grades, though. It was the desire to prove to the Cohen's their faith wasn't wasted, to proved to everyone (especially himself) that he deserved to be where he was.

That, and _**she**_ was in the AP courses. He needed months more practice at pretending she didn't completely own him before he could endure being in the same classroom with her and her fantastic ass, her glorious eyes, her exquisite……….

Anna kicked his ankle as she spoke, snapping him back to reality.

''I'm doing my best, but I really think you need someone who's more fluent in the language if you want Doctor Kim to upgrade you next semester.'' He could quite cheerfully have strangled the girl. Yes, the plan had been to introduce Taylor as a potential tutor for his 'weak subject' and thereby gain a legitimate excuse to spend time with _**her**_; but Summer was suspicious enough. Her dark gaze was glittering at him, lips pursed in thought, and he **knew** she'd seen his eyes glaze over during his brief lapse into fantasy. Thankfully, Seth interrupted her before the subject could turn to potential tutelage.

''French has more to do with art than architecture, doesn't it?'' The other boy looked confusedly at his mother, who shook her head.

''Actually, the language; more appropriately, the culture; has as much to do with the structural design as intent. Think about pictures you've seen of foreign cities: Tokyo, Moscow, Berlin, Paris. You can tell, often at a glance, what country or culture had the strongest influence by the shape of the buildings, the way the streets and interiors are laid out.'' Sandy was nodding, giving him a look of respect, but the other teens appeared doubtful. Defending Kirsten's comments more than his choice in lingual electives, Ryan took up the thread of conversation.

''You can see an old-world Spanish touch at Harbor. Lots of high ceilings and arched doorways; heavy wood furniture, verandas with double-doors and railings, slate roofs, thick doors with beveled geometric insets, stairs wandering around tiled patios, lush gardens, the style of the window shutters….……'' Everyone was giving him a very odd look and he dropped his gaze to his plate, picking up his fork and poking at his food._** Taylor**_ would let me go on about the ethnic leanings of the buildings in Newport, he thought resentfully. _**She'd**_ let me talk about anything I **wanted**, so long as I listened to _**her**_ meander on about poetry and art and all.

''There's a lot of glass in most French design.'' Kirsten indicated the doors to the patio with a nod of her head, smiling at him again. Maybe that look had just been shock. He'd just used more words describing the design of the campus than he usually used in a week, after all.

''In that case, mother, the pool house is **very** French.'' Seth quipped, snorting into his tea. ''Good thing you're on the soccer team, dude; your level of mintiness is getting dangerously high.''

''**You** speak French.'' Ryan said pointedly, hoping Anna would get the hint that he no longer thought having Taylor as his tutor would be a good cover story. Summer was sure to jump all over it, feeding more material into her (admittedly correct) theory about his interests.

''Not good enough to teach someone else, unfortunately. I'm still struggling through the conjunctive verb forms myself.'' Whatever the hell that was. Sounded complicated. Anna, thankfully, was as quick on the uptake as ever; and remained silent. He was just breathing an internal sigh of relief when Summer spoke up.

''You know, _Taylor_ speaks French.'' The brunette girl smiled at him with a shark's gleaming grin. He tightened his grip on his fork and wondered if he could get away with jabbing her in the larynx with it. She couldn't make sly implications and set these verbal traps for him if she couldn't talk. ''I'm sure she'd_ love_ to help you out.''

''I wouldn't want to take up her time, she has so much else to do with social committee and all.'' He gritted out, forcing himself to sound like he was concerned about imposing on an already busy fellow student and not like he wanted throttle someone. ''Her mother might not like her spending time with 'the kid from Chino', either.'' Now it was **Sandy** giving him a sharply assessing look, but he was more concerned with the bruising his ankle was taking from Anna's kicking than anything the man might conclude. He nudged the girl with his knee to try and get her to lay off. Last thing he needed was to start limping and end up dragged to the emergency room.

''I don't think that would be a problem.'' Great, now **Kirsten **was getting into it; most likely motivated by a thought that if he couldn't pull his French score up, he wouldn't be able to upgrade his classes for next semester. The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. ''It's not like she's dating you or anything.'' He bit his tongue on a groan, seeing the light of realization finally spark in Seth's eyes. Damn it, now he had _two_ hounds on his tail; and one of them lived with him. Not a good. ''Not that I think you don't deserve to…… I'm not trying to say that people who think that about you are……..''

''I get it, Kirsten. It's okay.'' He soothed his foster mother as best he could, more concerned with the rest of the table and what they were thinking. He hadn't really thought about taking offense over the fact that most of Newport thought he was scum. It wasn't that new a thing, for him; the low opinion people had of him. It hadn't mattered before, because everyone had the same image and it wasn't worth it to try and change their minds.

It didn't matter **now** because the only people (save Taylor) whose opinions he gave a shit about were around this table and they obviously thought he was all right.

''I think he's right. Taylor's got a lot on her plate, and with her just now stepping into the dating scene……….'' It was good attempt, on Anna's part. It might've even worked, if Seth's suspicions hadn't been aroused by his mother's phrasing.

''Oh, I think she's too good a friend and too much a team player to let the school's newest star athlete lose his soccer-playing opportunity.'' From the expression on the guy's face, he knew damn well what bringing up the potential of Ryan losing his place on the team would do. Sure enough, The Kirsten reacted just as expected.

''It can't hurt to _ask_ the girl, Ryan.'' From the tone of voice, if he didn't agree to ask Taylor to tutor him, there would be hell to pay from his foster mother. ''If it turns out she's that overworked, we can always hire someone.'' He could practically hear the trap snapping shut on him. There was no way he was gonna let the Cohen's spend even more money on him than they already were, and no further excuse he could think of would prevent his having to accept the situation. He nodded his agreement, just wishing the night was over already.

''You could even help her with the dating.'' Summer was insane. Everyone thought so, he wasn't the **only** one staring at the girl in wide-eyed astonishment. He was probably the only one whose thoughts were homicidal, though. ''Warn her off guys with octopus hands and bad reps ………' Oh. That was okay then, he'd already been planning to do **that**. ''…….since you've got more of an 'in' with the guys at school than Cohen, you can totally scope out her _perfect_ match.'' He barely caught the growl before it hit audible, coughing to hide the anger in his face and voice.

''Well, this has been lovely, but I have school tomorrow.'' Anna stood up and he jumped up after her, almost trembling in his relief at a legitimate excuse to leave the table before he murdered his brother's girlfriend. ''Thanks so much for having me; Mr. Cohen, Mrs. Cohen.'' Their murmurs of 'not at all' and urgings to address them by their first names covered his lack of speech as he escorted her to the door. Seth was going to need the car to take Summer home; so even if his license wasn't suspended, he still couldn't have stretched out his escape. ''I'll warn her.'' The blonde girl whispered into his ear as they went through the motions of hugging goodbye, the only physical display of affection her 'shyness' allowed them in public. He nodded, still not entirely confident about his voice control; hoping (and knowing it wasn't gonna happen) that the staring after her would be taken by the girl coming up behind him as lascivious attention.

''Taylor's going to be so happy.'' Summer gushed falsely at him, adjusted her purse over one shoulder. ''She just loves to help people, you know.''

''Good** night**, Roberts.'' Ryan held the door open, wishing he could slam it behind her without having to explain himself. How had such a good plan gone sideways so fast?

''Night, Chino.'' The two brunettes exited, and the puppy-eyed look of hurt understanding from Seth let him know the Seth/Ryan conversation over this topic wouldn't be stalled for much longer. Sighing at the complicated mess he'd gotten himself into, he went to clear the table.

''It's Taylor, isn't it.'' He was loading the dishwasher when Sandy confronted him. He silently held out a hand for the wine glasses the adults had taken to the bedroom, setting them on the sideboard to be hand-washed. ''The girl from TJ, the one with the psycho mother.''

''I plead the fifth.'' He flinched as he said it, keeping his eyes on his work. He'd already told the man as much as he dared; he wasn't about to break a promise to Taylor, no matter how it twisted him up inside.

''What about Anna? Just what do you think you're doing?'' So** that's** what was lacing his words with disappointment; the thought that Ryan was leading her on or, even worse, that he** wasn't**. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, to be thought of as a two-timer by a man you respected. He hurried to explain himself.

''It was **her** idea: to pretend……'' He stopped, realizing with a sinking feeling that he couldn't finish the sentence without compromising yet another secret. He wanted to tell the truth, but…… ''It's not my secret to tell.'' He whispered, more to himself than his father.

''I think I understand.'' Sandy's hand was gentle on his shoulder, his eyes kind and, as always, compassionately intelligent. Most of the guilt over his secrets and lies (of omission, if nothing else) bled away. As observant as this man was, as knowledgeable about people (him especially) it wouldn't be long before he had the complete picture, if he didn't already. ''Just be careful, okay?'' He nodded, grateful that there wasn't going to be another ……..discussion about his sex life. Once was more than enough. ''You should probably find a way to tell Seth, preferably before Summer does.'' With that last bit of advice, he was left alone in the kitchen.

So his lawyer thought Summer already knew. Which meant the possibility had a high percentage of being likely. It also meant that he **really** needed to bring Seth into the secret before the guy's girlfriend did; or he might **never** repair his friendship with his brother.

Not tonight, though.

Tonight he had to slam his head into the wall for **ever** thinking that life outside Chino (and a secret romance with the most enthralling and addictive girl in existence) would be easy.

--xxx—

''You owe me an apology.''

''Excuse me?''

''You heard me.'' Summer sat aggressively down across the table from her, scowling in obvious irritation. Taylor wondered what she could have done and was mentally running over the weekend's activities (skipping over the time with Ryan, because it made her dizzy to think about) when the other girl went on. ''I know you don't know me very well; but thinking I'd skunk you and Chino just because he passed on Marissa is stupid, and I didn't think you were……''

''When's your birthday?'' Anna had been right, Summer **was **on to them. It was more than suspicion, the girl was giving every impression of being absolutely convinced that she was right. It didn't help matters that, in fact, she **was**. ''It's in August, right?'' She didn't give the other a chance to answer, pressing forward with her point. ''So inviting me to your birthday party if I let you cheat off me for that test in middle school, in early March; that was what? A mistake? You forgot when your birthday was? That you'd be off with the pony club that weekend?'' She stopped, seeing the tears in the brown eyes. She'd long ago made her peace with the petty actions of her peers, calling them on their past misdeeds seemed pointless. Most of them wouldn't remember, a lot of them wouldn't care. That the girl across from her obviously did both was a shock, even with what she'd learned about her in the past few weeks.

''Oh my God.'' The brunette whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. ''I remember that. I remember…….'' She drew a shuddering breath and blinked hard, staring at her white-knuckled grip on her purse. ''I'm surprised you and Cohen even **talk **to me. I've been such a bit…….'' She gave a trembling laugh at Taylor's expression, shaking her head. ''Such a _**mean**_ person.''

''Compared to Veronica Townsend, you're Mother Theresa.'' Speaking of her mother in the third person made it easier to criticize her. She didn't want to lose her new friend to the mistakes of the past, though. Like having Ryan, she was unwilling to just give up finally having what she wanted because of one or two obstacles. This one wasn't even really an obstacle, she just had to convince the girl she'd been forgiven. ''You've changed, you know. The old Summer would **never **have spoken to me,_** or**_ started dating Seth, _**or**_ be sorry she hurt anyone's feeling, given how long ago it was.'' She waved her hand to show how little the past mattered in the light of their new relationship. Over the last week, she'd come to like the brunette very much; and believed the other felt the same. They had so much in common, were so much alike; it would be _criminal_ to allow petty grudges and misunderstandings to stand in the way of their friendship. ''I'm not admitting anything…….'' She whispered, making sure with small movements of her hazel eyes that no one else was even remotely in earshot. Summer cleverly played it casual. The other girl didn't lean forward in excited sharing; she relaxed and looked away, fiddling with her purse as if Taylor wasn't discussing anything very important. ''……but if you were right about me and Ryan; what would you do?''

''Do?'' That seemed to surprise the girl, she frowned mightily, chewing the inside of her lip. ''I dunno. Double date or something?'' The brown eyes widened even as she spoke and she gasped in obvious horror. ''Oh my God, your _**Mother!**_ That's why……..'' Horror faded into respect, into concern. ''I haven't blown it, have I? I swear, I haven't told anyone what I was thinking, just Seth. Not that he believes me, he thinks Ryan's hooking up with some girl from Mexi……… Taylor!'' Heads turned and Summer glared, making the rest of the room at least pretend not to have looked over at her shout. ''You totally had me going with that Comicon thing.'' Her friend sounded more delighted than angry at being deceived.

''I don't know what you're talking about.'' Taylor smiled innocently, sipping her latte. She didn't want to chance anyone paying closer attention than they seemed to be. The other caught on right away, nodding and smiling in return.

''Riiiight. Not a clue.'' The bell rang, emptying the room as people scattered to their respective classes. ''We have to do lunch or something, though. Soon. I want to hear all about at least the PG-13 details and what Anna thinks she's doing with _your guy_.'' The last two words were barely audible, but they were the only words she heard for the next hour.

Your guy.

It was outside validation of her faith in their bond.

Your guy.

It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her.

Your guy.

Okay, she totally had to stop, because if she _didn't_, she was going to end up having **Ryan** for lunch and, while that would be nice on several levels, it would completely blow their clandestine little affair wide open and _**then**_ her mother would come in like the wrath of the Old Testament and life wouldn't be worth living for _**anyone**_.

After school was so much better, the test she'd sent _**him**_ during lunch to arrange their first tutoring session made concentrating on her afternoon classes very difficult. She managed it, though. Finally, she was able to go to the library and into one of the study rooms she had an extra key to. According to the schedule on the librarian's desk, this room was 'out of order', the circuitry for the lights supposedly had a tendency to spark and flare. Next time, of course, she'd use a different room, a different excuse. No one really cared about these rooms until mid-terms, anyway; and at that time she and Ryan would both be too busy studying to need the space for other reasons.

By that time, they'd also (hopefully) be past all this sneaking around.

There was a patterned knock (as instructed) and she opened the door just enough to admit _**him**_; keeping herself tucked behind the edge so no one could see her from the outside. He stepped inside, his blue eyes flicked over the round table, the chairs, the chalkboards on two of the walls, before finally settling on her with the usual affectionate intensity. She was locking the door behind him (shoving a chair under the handle for added security) when his voice stopped her preparations.

''Summer knows.'' He sounded edgy, depressed. Taylor shook her head, coming over to him and lifting the strap of his satchel over his head. ''Taylor……'' His nostrils were flaring, his voice was **very** strained.

''She's not going to say anything.'' She whispered, pushing him to sit in one of the other chairs. ''She's a friend.'' She sat in his lap, pleated skirt rising to her hips. Any objections to continuing were being quickly forgotten, she could tell by the glazed and hungry look on his face.

''I need to tell Seth.'' From the absent nature of his tone, Ryan was giving more attention to the opening of her blouse than what he was saying. He smiled to see the front-clasped bra she was wearing and locked gazes with her as he slowly opened it, shoving the fabric aside so he could fondle her breasts. ''The only people he'd tell already know.''

''Yeah, okay.'' He wasn't the only one distracted; she caressed his magnificent arms, fisting the fabric of his shirt when he rubbed his thumb insistently over one nipple. ''Ryan……''

''Yeah?'' She groaned to hear the teasing lilt to his voice, grinding herself against the growing bulge in his pants. It was his turn to groan, to bite his lip in a rush of desire. ''Fuck.''

''Sure, let's.'' Taylor buried her hands in his hair, tilting his head back so she could thrust her tongue into his open and eagerly accepting mouth.

Any thoughts of teasing him back fled when he slid his hands down her body, over her waist, and back up under her skirt to slip beneath her panties; pressing her clit more firmly to the hard length of him with a firm grip on her ass. She moaned, twitched her hips forward to rub harder, to pleasure herself with his happy co-operation. His lips were on her throat, her eyes glazing over as he brought her to orgasm with the pulse of his need through his jeans, the worship of his mouth on her skin; the self-control evident through the shaking of his fingers as they caressed her thighs and back.

She fell more than moved onto the floor, pulling her half-dressed and fully-ravished body from his embrace. Blue eyes burned at her, he swallowed with anticipation as she knelt between his feet, opening his pants and tugging them and his boxers down past his knees, freeing him with the help of a slight lifting of his hips. She touched her tongue to the head, thrilling to the primal taste of that part of him, the way he became so complacent and eager to please when she pleasured him so.

Her thumb was gentle as it stroked up and down the scar on the bottom of his shaft, almost as gentle as the fingers he wove into her hair; caressing instead of attempting control. She closed her eyes, feathering touches all around his groin, up and down the length as she took him slowly into her mouth, sucking at his intimate flesh with hazy joy. All too soon, a firm tug on her hair let her know he wanted more than this. The boy just had the weirdest fascination with making her scream.

Not that she was complaining, of course.

Having Ryan deep and throbbing inside her was a sensation she was going to repeat as often as humanly possible.

Taylor pulled off her panties, he took care of the safety issue, and she straddled his lap for another position they could mark off her list. He'd either seen the sound-proofing in the room (or was beyond giving a shit) because he made no attempts to quiet her delighted cries as she impaled herself onto him. His teeth pulled tenderly at her nipples, his hands braced her upright, his palms flat on her lower back. That grip would wander, she knew; caressing her as they moved together towards completion. She tightened her fingers into his shoulders, knowing she was probably going to leave bruises and not caring at all. He certainly didn't appear to.

Climax engulfed her, catching him up as well; lips locking at the peaks of their ecstasy in a move that might look practiced but was actually just another sign of how well they read each other. She rested her forehead on the top of his head in the aftermath, feeling his gasps hot and shaking on her breastbone. It was still as amazingly intense as the first time they'd done it; more so as this time **she** had a better idea of what she was doing and **he** had a better idea of how to make her completely lose it.

''So……'' he tilted his head back to give her that naughty-boy smirk and she traced the planes of his face with the tip of an affectionate finger ''…..that was French?''

Turned out it wasn't the sex that made it impossible for her to tutor him that first time.

It was her total inability to stop giggling.

--xxx—

''Ah, there you are.'' Seth walked right into the pool house and sat down in the chair. Ryan got the feeling that the conversation about the whole TJ-Anna-secret-Taylor mess was about to go down. Good. He'd been trying to find a way to broach the subject for the past three days. ''Speak to me, oh stranger. I feel that we hardly know each other any more. Who are you? What are your thoughts and plans? Care to shed some light on the muddied waters of your personal involvements? Because Summer's pulled a complete 180 and** now** claims she was mistaken about you being interested in Taylor.'' So she was going to try and help hide the relationship, that was nice to hear. No help in how to do this, though. ''And how does Anna fit into all this? What, exactly, goes on during these study-dates? Because I, for one, do not believe you need** that** much assistance with your school work.'' That was nice to hear as well. Sandy and Kirsten saying he was smart always seemed like a biased viewpoint (and Taylor saying it was even more so) but_ Seth_ didn't have any reason to try and flatter his intelligence. ''Talk to me, Ryan. Even words of one syllable will be acceptable to clear the………''

''Seth.'' He sighed it, shaking his head over a small affectionate smile. He may not have any idea how this was going to work, but he knew he had to try. The desperate pain in the way his foster brother had said his name told him that. He looked over and saw the brown eyes wide with pleading and expectation. ''Close the door, okay?" He so didn't need to have Kirsten overhear this. He didn't want to think about the actions she might take; either in support of his involvement with Taylor or, more terrifyingly, _against_. He set his text books aside and leaned back against the end of the bed, stretching his legs out straight, trying to relax. This was going to be stressful enough without his body language sending the wrong signals.

''Right, closing door.'' The taller boy practically slammed it, he moved so fast to comply. ''Should I lower the blinds? Run the taps? You know, if your French was better we could work out a code. Although, The Kirsten **does** speak the tongue semi-fluently, so that wouldn't be……….''

''Taylor's the girl from TJ and we didn't break up.'' Ryan blurted out the main points, knowing he'd get tangled in side issues and crazy meandering if he didn't say **something** relevant to the conversation he wanted to have, **needed** to have, with his best friend, who practically collapsed back into the chair and was silent and still for a full three seconds.

''Okay. That's a little confusing.'' The guy tilted his head one way, then the other, obviously thinking things over. ''Wait, no, I think I'm getting it now. In Mexico, you said that you **had** to keep it secret, and knowing what Veronica Townsend is like, I'd say that's right up there with looking both ways before crossing the street and not drinking milk past the expiration. I mean, this is the woman who told Mom that there was no shame in having an autistic or retarded child and tried to get me into the remedial program in middle school. **Then** there was the petitioning to prevent handicapped access in public buildings in Newport because it was anti-Darwin. Mom'll put up with _Julie Cooper_ all the live-long day, but Veronica Townsend?'' There was a rueful shaking of black curls, brown eyes mournful. ''I won't go so far as to say that there's hatred, not sure if there's a Montague/Capulet situation; but I **do** know that they avoid each other as much as possible. In a town this small, that takes a lot of planning to pull off.''

''So, you don't think she'd approve if Taylor and I…….'' He had never been so glad to be keeping something from someone before. If there really was a conflict between Kirsten and Veronica, then his asking Sandy for a lawyer's confidentiality was the brightest thing he'd done regarding the whole affair. Maybe even his entire life.

''I don't know.'' Seth frowned, pulled at his bottom lip, tapping the thumb of the other hand on the wicker chair arm. ''She'll want you to be happy, but …….'' His brother shook his head, rubbing his hands together. ''I think it depends on how serious you are about this.'' Teasing entered the guy's expression and the long-fingered, never-still hands were folded briefly over one slightly-bent knee. ''Also, she's not going to be too happy if you're jerking Anna around. Neither will I, for that matter.'' It was a nice attempt at a glare, but his friend obviously didn't put much stock in the theory that Ryan was seeing both girls at once, so it lacked any real force.

''You can't tell anyone I told you this; not even Anna.'' He didn't feel so bad about revealing the blonde girl's secret; not if it repaired the rift between him and his brother. And trusting Seth with this minor secret would definitely repair any damage from keeping the far more important and volatile one about his love life; especially since the only people in the know were directly involved (Anna) and had best-friend-jealousy-exempt status as a 'girlfriend' (Taylor). ''Taylor's the only other one who knows this.'' Ryan's own glare was far more successful, keeping the other boy quiet and even getting a nod of agreement. ''Anna's gay.''

''Oh **my** God.'' Absolute shock. ''**Oh** my God.'' Wonder, awe, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ''Oh my** God**. Have you considered………have you thought about……….?'' Delight, and hormonal teenaged speculation. Yeah, his friend's reactions were about what he'd thought they were going to be. ''Do you think she and Taylor would ………..?''

''No.'' It came out harsh and heavy, his hands tightened instantly into fists at the **thought** of anyone getting intimately close to his auburn beauty but him. He glared blue ice at the boy in the chair. ''No one touches Taylor.''

Grinding his teeth together made it really hard to talk, he was discovering.

''Whoa. Okay, down, boy. Sorry I even thought they'd double-team you.'' Seth raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, his easy smile showing he wasn't really afraid. As often as he wanted to pummel the guy, it **was** nice to know there was one person (okay, counting _**her**_, two) that didn't believe he would ever be dangerous to them. ''It's pretty clever, really. I mean, who's gonna think she's a lesbian when she's dating the Chino stud?'' He couldn't help but snort derisively, even though he knew **that** view of his sexual prowess was fairly prevalent. He wasn't sure if it was due to overheard remarks of his brother's making it into the rumor mill, idle speculation (on whose part he really didn't want to think about), or something Luke had said about the hook-up in Mexico being elaborated in the manner typical to all gossip. Just because the things they were saying about his 'skills' were true didn't make it any less embarrassing to think about. ''So, you have the cover of Anna; Taylor's …………All right, I'll bite. **Why** is Taylor hunting through that list of assholes? She **does** know these are the same guys that refer to her as 'Dorksend', right?''

''She knows.'' He sighed, willing his hands to uncurl before his nails broke the skin of his palms, ''Her mom says she dates those guys or no one. So Taylor's trying to either get a rep as a slut or find someone Veronica will hate more than me.'' Thinking about what he'd have to listen to, in the locker room, if her plan started working made his stomach twist into knots. His head pounded and his vision began to narrow when he contemplated the type of guy that would be considered 'worse' than him.

''Hey.'' Seth's worried voice snapped him back into the moment and he shook off the dark mood as best he could. ''You look like you have a serious problem with this plan. Are you sure there's no other……….''

''I've got a juvenile record. I'm on a probationary status at school because of that tackle during my first practice. The case worker for Child Services is watching everything I do.'' Not** too** close, thankfully. He didn't want to think about what Ms. Henderson's opinion of what _**she **_called their 'From Here to Eternity' moment (and what he just called 'sex on the beach') would be. ''I've got too much to lose.'' That was his new mantra, what he repeated to himself over and over every time his jealousy threatened his control.

''Yeah, Veronica would certainly make the most of that ammo.'' The other boy frowned, shifting in his seat and drummed his fingers on the chair arms again. ''You sure Taylor will be okay? A lot of those Neanderthals aren't the type to take 'no' for………''

''She's got two black belts.'' Ryan raised his eyebrows suggestively, nodding at the look of delighted surprise that lit the long face.

''Have you thought about ……………?'' The sentence didn't even need completing; the image of some jock getting his (very tiny) brains knocked in by Taylor was practically burned into the air between them.

''**OH**, yeah.'' He leaned back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling with a wide grin. He'd honestly thought about that a **lot**. Not only would her thumping the guys give her a rep of being a stone-cold bitch (and scare them off, bonus) thereby possibly causing the strictures of her dating choices to be loosened; but he couldn't shake the vision of _**her**_, hazel eyes flashing, hair swirling about her shoulders, leg extended in a vicious side-kick……….

''Dude.'' Seth's foot nudged his thigh, he blinked at him through a haze of Valkyric fantasies. ''Have the good manners to wait your somewhat pedestrian jack-off material until I'm out of the room.''

--xxx—

Chip Saunders was boring.

No, boring wasn't a strong enough term.

Chip was, as Seth had so very accurately observed, a human Valium pill.

It wasn't just that he was apathetic to the point of being more of a doormat than any sentient being had a right to be. It wasn't just that he was (by all appearances) stoned out of his mind a majority of the time. It wasn't even that he had no interests outside getting high and getting laid, and didn't seem all that intent about achieving either.

No, it was his **voice**.

His monotone, un-inflected, beyond dippy **voice**.

It was as if a snail had learned to speak.

Even worse was what he chose to **say **with said voice.

'The ocean is so huge.' 'The moon is bright, huh?' 'Popcorn is salty.'

It was like dating a five-year-old and Taylor was rapidly losing her mind with the numbing brainlessness of it. At least when** Ryan** didn't speak (or spoke in short sentences) there was a world of communication expressed in his eyes, his tone, his body language. Even a tilt of his head, blue glinting sideways, could convey a whole paragraph of meaning. Staring into his gaze, she always felt the tremendous depth of his character, the force of his vibrant personality.

Comparatively, Chip had all the depth and vibrancy of a stagnant puddle.

She gave him a chance. Really, she did. She didn't protest when **she** had to pick **him** up; when **she** had to choose the place to eat, the movie to see, even the snacks to get (all of which** she** had to pay for). Three hours later, though; she'd had more than enough of Mister Zombie and dropped him off at his house with a great sense of relief. He didn't have her number so, baring contact at school, it was unlikely that he'd ask her for a second date. **Very** unlikely, because she seriously doubted he had the necessary brain cells remaining to remember that they'd gone out at all. The only bright spot to the entire evening was that she hadn't had to fight off any sexual advances. That wasn't going to be the norm, she knew; not with the things that had been going on at that beach party last weekend.

Thinking of what _else_ had gone on last weekend made her bite her lip and check her watch. The game tomorrow was in the afternoon, and it was just barely nine now. Her text query got an enthusiastic 'yes' (Seth was out on the first of his 'official' dates with Summer) and even a suggested location. Ryan couldn't very well use the 'study-date' excuse this late on a Friday, but he could 'go for a ride' on his bike; which meant the locale had to be close enough to the Cohen's place for him to get there quickly. Close enough that such a trip wouldn't be enervating; after their fun was over.

That let her house right out, and the Inn; and most of the other places they'd christened were either not legally accessible at this time of night or they'd run the risk of being spotted.

Aside from the 24 hour diner, the pier was popular spot just to walk or hang out, and the beaches to either side was recognized as some of the best surfing around. Parking near the shore was therefore out of the question, given the high volume of traffic likely to be travelling through the area. She pulled in at the far end of one of the lesser-used lots, where the shadows of an empty building effectively concealed her mother's dark grey Cadillac Escalade. She'd just barely climbed into the back seat to wait when someone knocked on the window.

''Hey.'' Swallowing her heart down out of her throat, Taylor unlocked the door and slid over, letting _**him**_ into the vehicle. ''Thought you might need cheering up.'' He held out a plastic container, slamming the door firmly shut after him as she automatically accepted it.

''What…….?'' She froze, the lid hanging limply from one hand as she cupped the bottom of the dessert bowl in the other.

It was a sundae. Not just any sundae, either. It was a sundae from a little place tucked in next to the surf supply store that let you build your own confection and had some of the most esoteric toppings available. Sweet Delight, it was called. She'd thought they closed. Proof they hadn't was chilling her hand and choking the breath in her throat; because it was one of **her** sundaes. The kind she'd made before her mother had declared she was 'too fat' to be eating ice cream. Chocolate soft-serve, white fudge topping, chopped hazel nuts, sliced cherries, and a miniature truffle on top. She didn't need to check to know that, halfway down the bowl, there would be a swirl of whipped cream through the ice cream; just like she'd used to do.

Just like she'd told him all about when he'd asked (hunting snacks Wednesday night) why there wasn't any ice cream in the Townsend refrigerator.

''I can't believe you remembered.'' She knew it was silly, but this one little gesture was tearing her up. Look, she wanted to shout; look how well he knows me! Look how much he cares; that he would remember this, that he would think of it, that he would go to the trouble to make it!

''Of course I did.'' She turned moist hazel eyes to him, still somewhat amazed and definitely touched. Ryan smiled at her tenderly, stealing the truffle from the top with a teasing glint in solemn blue. ''I remember everything about you.''

She snagged his hand before he could complete his theft of the morsel, pulling his fingers to her mouth so she could suck it out of his grasp. He inhaled sharply, pouting a little when she turned away from his intense gaze to dig the spoon into his offering. The first bite was far more delicious than she recalled it ever tasting before; probably an effect of the circumstances under which this one had been obtained. Her eyes closed in gastronomic bliss.

''Date was that bad, huh?'' Taylor blinked and looked over at him, hoping she hadn't lost too much time moaning around the plastic in her mouth. She pulled it free and dug out a mouthful for him to taste. He let her feed him, swallowing the sample with an expression of surprised enjoyment. She took another bite for herself, _stupid mother, making me give this up_, humming at the rich flavor. ''I thought Chip was okay.'' She frowned at him, selfishly spooning out the next morsel for herself instead of sharing.

''You only think that because you know he won't make a move on me.'' Ryan shrugged, as sure an admission of motivation as a nod. She sighed, gathering him another bite. ''You **know** the plan calls for me to date more than Mr. Snooze-fest.'' She tried to soothe the concerns that made his teeth come down a little tight on the spoon. ''Come on, Ryan. Don't you have faith that I can handle any goon with grabby hands?'' He really needed to learn to back off, to give her room to maneuver for this scheme of theirs.

''What if the goon slips you something?'' She stopped in mid-scoop, narrowing her eyes. It wasn't that she'd never considered such a possibility. That **was** the main reason she'd been so careful about her drinks, back when she'd gone dancing to ease her loneliness; it was just that she'd gotten out of the habit, now that she had _**other**_ things to fight the solitude with.

''Maybe the next date should be a group thing.'' Taylor suggested hesitantly, knowing how much he hated going out with Anna (because it **was** a lie, and he was an honest person) but believed he would jump at the chance to keep a closer eye on her and her safety; even if it meant he'd been insane with jealousy all night. He nodded agreement to her compromise, reaching over and brushing her bangs away from her eyes.

They talked about it, both relieved that all of their friends were now in the know. It made it **so** much more convenient to arrange matters when they didn't have to hide from the people closest to them. Not to mention the added level of efficiency that having two more minds working on the problem and covering for them afforded. She sighed at the empty sundae bowl, leaning forward to toss it into the trash bag. When she sat back, Ryan was sitting a** lot** closer.

His kiss was warmer than ever, heating the chill of her tongue as she clutched desperately at his shoulders, mind swirling. He pushed her shirt up, grinning against her lips as he reached the sports bra she was wearing. She hadn't seen any need to dress up for _Chip_, and was wearing her most boring underwear beneath her jeans and polo shirt. Now, however, she was wishing she'd worn a dress; because it would be ever so much easier to get naked (or at least get the fabric out of the way) if she was wearing an outfit with a skirt. Stupid, she chided herself; did you learn _nothing_ from the closet incident?

He didn't seem to have any objections, though, tugging both articles of clothing over her head with one swift move. His hands were on her breasts in what felt like the next second, his mouth trailing down her neck with the obvious intent to join his fingers. Taylor pulled at his tee shirt, wanting to see the hard steel of his body, wanting to feel the firm muscles upon her skin. He freed himself of the cotton, tossing it after her shirt and returning to his briefly interrupted activities. She lost herself in what he was doing to her, somewhat surprised to feel his touch beneath her panties, cupping her butt. When had he opened her jeans? She didn't recall. She didn't care, either.

Kicking off her sneakers seemed to be the signal for him to start pulling her pants down, to follow the path of his hands with his mouth. He pushed her into the corner where the back of the seat met the side of the car. Her fingers threaded themselves into his hair with the first scrape of his teeth over her clit, his tongue probing gently as she arched into his face. Forcing herself to move her grip down onto his shoulders, she moaned with satisfaction, vibrating with pleasure at the feel of him devouring her so intimately.

Ryan groaned as sweet nectar flowed over his lips, wondering how she managed to make** him** feel so fucking good when he did this to her. It was** supposed** to be for_** her**_ enjoyment, to make _**her**_ come; but **he** always ended up ramped into a wild feeling of animal lust whenever he went down on her. Warm silk clenched around his tongue and his shaft twitched in reaction to her climax. Growling to himself (hoping she wasn't paying attention, knowing she'd tease him about it later if she was) he pulled his jeans hurriedly open with his left hand, trying to shift her into position with his right.

It just wasn't working out and he paused for a minute to think past the haze in his head. An extremely difficult thing to do, because he'd come to equate covering his length with fucking _**her**_ and with every nerve ending on his body attuned to her arousal it was taking most of his will power not to just mindlessly attack her. Finally, he got things arranged to that they could use what space they had without either of them falling off the seat or knocking their heads into the framework.

Taylor lay on her back, left leg along his chest with her ankle resting on his right shoulder. As he lowered himself into nirvana, groaning at the warm satin of her core, her right leg curled around his waist, calf pressing his ass forward, encouraging him to go deeper. He grabbed the door handle just over her head with his left hand, his right clenched on the back of the seat, where the cushion curved over into the rear dash. Flawless skin flushed with passion, his lover gripped his left forearm, right palm pressing down as she arched herself upwards, left palm pressing on the inside of the door to return her to her impaled position.

Catching her slow and easy rhythm, Ryan growled again, not caring this time if she heard, unconcerned at the potential for humiliation at her hands. She could do anything she wanted to him, so long as she looked at him like _**that**_ at least once a day.

Like he was everything, like he was perfect.

She started to shake, crying out in French he'd bet his ass the course book would be absolutely **no** help in translating. The fiery gleam of orgasm in her hazel eyes tightened his stomach, driving him harder, faster; closer to his own completion. The knowledge of who she was, the gift of herself she continually gave him: it merged with the feel of her silk around his hardness, the taste of her on his tongue, the sound of her angel's voice (incoherent as it was, just now) in his ears, the sight of her breasts bouncing with the force of his movements until he couldn't differentiate between the pleasure of what they were doing and the pain of holding back his release.

She screamed with obvious ecstasy as they reached (in unison) the shattering end of their intimacies. He dimly felt poke of her heel into his ass as he let go of all that he was, all that he could be; giving everything of his existence to the girl beneath him.

Receiving the immeasurably priceless treasure that was_** Taylor**_ in return.

--xxx--

_tbc_


	5. party and concert

**A/N: **Okay, this was supposed to be the Halloween chapter, but I wanted to do a few more scenes and it just grew into two more chapters, of which this is the first, so………

Thanks to Vex (I think it was you) for a locale suggestion.

Thanks to Waltzy for a **scene** suggestion: three guesses which one? VEG

--xxx—

This time the victory party was at Holly's. There was still no evidence of hard drugs, thankfully; possibly because the random testing the players were subjected to tended to reign in the boys' wilder impulses, and no one wanted to party without the main attractions. After the excitement of the game (they'd only won by one point) where the winning goal was a nail-biting play in the last five seconds, no one seemed willing to allow the adrenaline thrill to fade. Every single member of the team was surrounded by enthusiastic well-wishers, most of whom appeared to be girls. The majority of them looked ecstatic.

Ryan looked uncomfortable.

Most of his discomfort was probably due to her playing the role of cheerleader, joining the crowd around Luke. She wished she could explain that she'd chosen that circle of giggling bimbos because she knew for certain sure that the taller boy wouldn't make a move anywhere _near_ her. Her rivalry with Marissa was finally paying off, strange as **that** was. Anna was sitting close to _**him**_, keeping the admiring ladies from getting too free with their hands. She was just reminding herself to do something nice for her friend because of it when Holly came in with a bowl full of folded slips of paper.

''Get serious, Fisher.'' Brenda jeered, tossing her platinum curl's over one bikini-clad shoulder. ''Isn't Seven Minutes a little middle school?'' There was laughter and pink tinted their host's cheeks.

Taylor didn't know what motivated her. Holly Fisher had certainly never been nice to her. Only Marissa had been crueler, in fact. Still, no one deserved to be mocked in their own home, no matter how much of a skank they were.

''What's 'seven minutes'?'' She'd only been mildly curious, but the stunned reaction of the entire room (including_** him**_) made her really wonder. Apparently it was a very popular game, if most teens in both Newport **and** Chino knew about it.

''You have** got** to be kidding me.'' That was Jess, another of the 'evil blondes', as she liked to think of them. Actually, that description pretty much fit 80 of the student body. ''You don't know Seven Minutes in Heaven?'' Even the music seemed to hold it's breath for her answer, hitting one of those pauses between songs on the CD just to make her feel really put-on-the-spot.

''I wouldn't have asked if I knew.'' She turned hazel eyes to Holly, hoping her attempt to help the girl would garner some sympathy. To her utter surprise, it did.

Sort of.

''Okay, now we **have** to play.'' Their host declared firmly, shaking the bowl full of papers. ''We can't let Dor…….Townsend remain ignorant, can we?'' Giggles and mischievous looks were aimed her way, she was starting to wish she'd kept her mouth shut. Paper rustled in front of her, Holly was holding out the bowl. ''Since you've never played, you get to go first.'' That sounded ominous. She looked down at the bowl full of papers and then up into the glitter of dark anticipation in almost every gaze.

Ryan had his eyes closed, looking beyond pained. His clenched fists were shaking and Anna had one wrist in her right hand, obviously keeping him quiet. What the **heck** did this game involve, that the _possibility_ of her playing it had such an effect on him?

The night took on a surreal aspect when _Luke_ leaned forward to her rescue, tapping the bowl with a calloused finger.

''Names of the guys on the team.'' He grinned at her confused expression, not unkindly, in fact. So now she knew what the papers were for. She supposed random selection was** one** way to……….what exactly went** on** in this game? Heaven? Seven minutes wasn't long enough for sex, she knew that and thanked God for it. Her unexpected savior spoke up again, seeing that she still wasn't following the game's plan. ''You get locked in the closet with whoever's name you pick for seven minutes. The two of you kiss, make out, whatever.'' Now his grin was more lascivious, she re-evaluated his status away from 'safe' and into 'a little risky'. ''All in fun, of course.''

''Of course.'' She tried to smile back, was more successful at keeping her hand from shaking as she swirled her fingers through the paper and made her choice. Opening the folded square, she gaped at the neat print, wondering just how bored the Almighty had to be, to be doing** this** to her. ''Uhm.'' She looked fearfully up into the eager (and one angst-filled) faces turned her way. ''What do you do if he has a girlfriend?''

''Oh, for……'' Holly snatched the paper out of her hand, scowling at the name. ''I don't be**lieve** this.''

''Who is it?'' Kimberly stood up, popping her ever-present gum as she tilted their host's hand so she could see the print for herself. ''Hunh. Guess it's true, what they say about beginner's luck.'' The girl turned green eyes to Ryan, smirking salaciously. ''You're up, stud.''

''Seriously?'' Anna jumped up, taking the paper from the Fisher girl's limp fingers, snickering as she unfolded it to reveal the block-lettered _Ryan Atwood_ in the center of the small square. ''Well I'll be damned.''

''You don't have to let her.'' One of the crowd around Ryan protested, obviously resentful of Taylor's good fortune. If she only knew the whole of it, Taylor thought to herself, she'd be frothing at the mouth with jealousy. The thought was as comforting as the brief look of relief and desire that flitted across_** his**_ face before he controlled his expression.

''No, it's all good.'' Anna grinned, stuffing the paper into her pocket, causing some girls to sigh at the removal of 'Chino' from the bowl of opportunity. ''I can be a good sport.''

''I don't have any choice in this, do I?'' Ryan sighed, standing up slowly with a great show of reluctance. Most people laughed, a lot of the girls looking pained as they did so. She wished Summer and Seth had decided to come, instead of begging off to get some 'alone time'. Either one of the two brunettes could've lightened the mood with a joke and derailed all the feminine glares aimed her way.

''It's not like we're not all friends here, right?'' Anna's glare was more for the crowd than 'her boyfriend', the majority of whom decided there was nothing to get excited about.

''Here we go.'' Holly had been pulling stuff out of the closet by the front door, shoving the hangers to each side to make room for two people to stand. Taylor got up and went over, glad neither one of them were claustrophobic. ''Timer starts when the door closes.'' Both teens nodded, climbing into the closet, not daring to look at each other for fear of giving the whole thing away.

One click plunged them into pitch-black, breath sounding very loud in the sudden stillness.

''This is unreal.'' She whispered, putting her hands on his chest, feeling him chuckle quietly under her palms.

''Seth would say it's a sign that the universe is on our side.'' Ryan's fingers wove into her hair, she wondered briefly if he had some sort of fetish. He was always cupping the back of her head, threading his grip through her auburn locks, running loosed strands over and around his fingers.

''Six and a half minutes le…….'' His mouth came down on hers firmly, his body hard against her curves as they kissed hungrily, moaning softly with the desperate longing they'd ignored all day. Silk between her fingers reminded her that he wasn't the only one that liked to get a grip on their partner's hair. Golden strands made a good hand-hold as her tongue slid past his lips to plunder his mouth in turn. Groans gave evidence of his enjoyment, he wrapped strong arms around her and tightened his embrace; one hand on her shoulder (holding her breasts to his chest) and one on her ass (keeping his length throbbing through his jeans at the apex of her legs). Her head was spinning wildly with desire, she wanted to pull his shirt off (for starters), but something kept her hands in place, she couldn't remember what.

Until the universe reminded her with a jarring flare of light and a maliciously teasing, half-drunk voice.

''Time's…….whoa.'' Ah. Holly. So that's why they'd been refraining from ripping each other's clothes off. The crowd waiting outside the door and the clock ticking down.

Applause and whistling escorted them back to their seats, Taylor detouring to the bar to fix herself a drink. Her green plastic cup had still had soda left in it, but the recent reminder of the dangers of an unattended beverage made her distrustful. She resumed her seat in Luke's circle of admirers with a red face, watching _**him**_ settle himself back into place with a forcibly casual arm over Anna's shoulders. The next couple (Jess and Brad) were being locked into the closet when Sheila turned to her with a smirking leer.

''First kiss, Townsend?'' There were several bursts of laughter, a great many of the guys raked their eyes over her, making her skin burn with disgust and _**his**_ gaze narrow balefully.

''Hardly.'' Taylor snorted derisively, a habit she'd adopted from Summer, whose manner she imitated in order to keep her calm amidst the villainous (from the girls) and lascivious (from the boys) looks she was getting. ''There was this guy, one summer: in Mexico.'' From the furrowed brows, they were all realizing that they didn't know enough about her past history to call her on it. Best thing, she wasn't even _lying_. The guy in question was across the room, ducking his head into a cup of beer so no one would see him grin. ''No offense…..'' she teased, crossing her legs and relaxing a bit, knowing he'd pick up on what she was trying to do''……but he's a **much** better kisser.''

''None taken. I'd much rather kiss my girlfriend, all things considered.'' Ryan didn't even run the risk of glancing her way, he directed a smile towards the blonde under his arm. All three of them, though, knew what he was **really **saying.

''You better.'' Anna smiled back, poking him lightly in the chest. There was more laughter, though most of the higher-pitched tones sounded forced.

''Whew.'' Jess's exit from the closet broke the focus of everyone's attention. ''I forgot how much fun this game is.'' Brad chuckled in agreement, slapping the girl on her butt as he followed her to their abandoned seats. Holly extended the bowl towards Anna, frowning when _**he**_ interrupted.

''She's not playing.'' There was a shrug from the girl under his arm, who Taylor knew was likely relieved not to be forced into heterosexual activities by the pressure of her peers.

''Come on, Chino.'' One of the drunker boys protested, eyeing the girl from Pittsburgh with obvious relish. ''Fair's fair.'' Murmurs of agreement threatened to turn ugly and it was, surprisingly,** Luke** who again came to the rescue.

''Let it go.'' He tossed back his drink, casual in his position at the top of the school's hierarchy. Taylor watched him carefully, making sure she appeared as enamored at her seatmates. He gave a warning grin around the room, blue eyes serious and teasing; all at once. ''Last time Chino threw down over a girl we burned down a house.'' The room cracked up and their host made a show of backing away, shoving the bowl 'nervously' towards another girl; declaring that she didn't want her parent's beach house to suffer such a fate.

The rest of the night was pretty tame, for Taylor at least. Seven Minutes in Heaven ended when one couple (Donna and Ben) refused to exit the closet, Holly slamming the door shut after a quick peek with a disgusted look. The remaining teens broke up into couples (who disappeared upstairs and outside) and groups (drinking games, poker, dancing); celebrating as their personalities directed. She joined the crowd at the section of the living room designated as the 'dance floor', returning to the times when she'd only had _**this**_ to comfort her so well that it was an hour after Ryan and Anna had left (she'd planned on _half_ an hour, originally) before she made her own exit.

Not that it really mattered. Ryan had warned her, through text messages, that he'd been worn out by today's game, and not to count on a rendezvous. Sunday would be taken up by the Cohen's, daytime Monday by classes, late afternoon by social committee, evening by dinner and homework; it would by Monday** night** before they could continue what they'd started in the Fisher's closet.

Their respective scholastic and social obligations were seriously, as _**he**_ would say; salting her game.

--xxx—

He was caught in a time warp.

A gravitational anomaly. Something.

There had to be **some** reason why it seemed like the Range Rover was going slower the closer he got to Taylor's house.

Having just gotten the suspension lifted from his license, he drove carefully; as close to the speed limit as safely possible. He signaled turns and change of lanes whether there were any other cars on the road or not and kept both hands on the wheel in the manual-approved positions. The last wasn't due to any desire to be a 'good' driver; it was more to keep himself from giving in to the urge to snag his cell phone out of his pocket and call _**her**_. Thinking of _**her**_ voice was a mistake, it made his ankle tighten against the impulse to slam the accelerator to the floor.

**Finally**, the Townsend's drive appeared beyond the hood, and he sped up to curve around behind the garage where she'd told him to park. It might seem a little paranoid, but her mother didn't always give notice when she was returning from her travels; so every precaution they could possibly take was a necessary one. Ryan peered into the windows of the garage, relieved to see that the woman's Miata was still absent. She'd **supposedly** purchased the car for her daughter, when Taylor had gotten her license; but then traded vehicles, leaving the teen with the boat-like Cadillac. Of course, the Cadi has it's advantages, he mused, making his way up to the house, remembering the car's back seat fondly.

''Taylor?'' The entrance he usually used was unlocked, he looked around for the auburn beauty with a twinge of concern, hand growing cold on the doorknob.

''Upstairs!'' He could barely hear her, but she didn't sound upset or under any kind of duress. Ryan locked the door behind him and took the stairs two at a time, frowning when he reached her room and still didn't see any sign of her. The lights weren't even on.

There was, however, a soft glow coming from the bathroom.

Thoughts of what she could be **doing** in there made his jeans feel two sizes too small and he decided to save a little time by taking his socks and shoes off **now**. Padding barefoot over to the door, he saw that the dim light was coming from candles, set around the somewhat opulent bathroom; covering the counter by the sink and endangering the drapes by the frosted-glass window. They were even arrayed on the back of the toilet; a number on the floor, lining the walls of the room. It gave the whole place a surreal feeling, made stronger by the sight of Taylor testing the temperature of the sweet-smelling water in the huge English-style footed tub.

The candlelight did wonderful things to her bare skin, glinting in the waves of her hair; hanging loosely over her shoulders. He must've made some sort of noise, because she turned to face him, utterly at ease with her nakedness, with his presence. Surreal shifted into the familiar comfort that had it's beginnings in that Mexican hotel room; turning a setting of pornographic seduction into something else. Something more like what a woman would do as a special treat for her man to come home to. Wishing he could come home to her every night would only depress him; so he chose to move things along, tugging his shirt off, smiling teasingly.

''I thought you liked me dirty.'' Ryan quipped, tossing the fabric into the bedroom behind him. Her hazel eyes got that glaze again, the same one they got every time he bared his chest. It was weirdly flattering, in a way. He guessed he got a similar expression whenever he focused on _**her**_ fantastic breasts. Speaking of which, they were looking particularly vibrant and taut tonight.

Although that might've been his libido talking. It **had** been three whole days since he'd laid eyes (or anything else) on them, after all.

''That a no?'' Taylor asked, flicking the water from her fingertips at him, smiling pure temptation. He shook his head, paused as the fog in his brain tried to match up her question with an appropriate response, and nodded as well, just to be sure. She giggled, dropping her hazel eyes pointedly to his pants. He smiled at the sound, filling his eyes with the sight of her, until the direction of her gaze registered and he realized why he felt so uncomfortable.

Right. Pants. Why the fuck was he still wearing them?

Denim joined the cotton on the floor of her bedroom, he crossed to the tub with a confident and eager stride. The focus of his nightly (sometimes daily as well) fantasies was already climbing in, leaning back with a sigh, arms laid out along the rim. He stepped into the water, looking for a way to sit that wouldn't knock his head into the faucet or crush her legs.

''Here.'' Her invitation was obvious, her legs spread to nestle him between them. Starting to kneel, he was halted by her giggling, her gentle touch on his shoulders. ''No, turn around.'' Water sloshed onto the tiles as he shifted around, leaning back with her encouragement, trying not to rest his full weight against her. ''Ryan, relax.'' Giggles were still in her voice, she moved her legs to lay over the top of his, snagging a washcloth from the bar on the wall and wetting it in the water rippling in front of him. Her arms coming around him pressed her breasts to his back, making him tense and tremble.

''What are you doing?'' He felt like whimpering, wondering if she really wanted him to beg. The pathetic thing was, he would; he'd beg her if she wanted him to, If she wanted him to, he'd take up _sky-diving_; she was **that** necessary to him, that basic a need.

''It was a tough weekend.'' Warm breath murmured past his ear, her lips touching the spot just under it, pulling a groan from him. Skin twitched where she stroked his chest, muscles clenching in reaction to the electric feel of her touch. ''I thought we could both use a little pampering.'' One of her hands traveled down over his stomach to touch his aching shaft, causing him to grip the sides of the tub to brace himself against the jolt of desire that burst through him. ''Trust me?'' Her other hand was smoothing the fabric of the washcloth over one shoulder, the one that had touched him so intimately tracing patterns on his hip, torturing him. From the way her fingers (both sets) were trembling, her question wasn't as casual as her tone tried to make it.

''More than anyone.'' Ryan turned his head to look at her, wanting to see the sultry confidence seep back into her wonderful eyes. She took her lower hand out of the water, tracing the lines of his face with scented fingers. He inclined his head towards her mouth, her thumb on his bottom lip.

''Relax.'' She whispered, shifting her grip to turn his face back to the front.

Sighing with only mild frustration, he eased himself back, ready to sit upright at the first sign of discomfort from Taylor. Lips touched his neck and he shuddered, hoping she wouldn't drag it out **too** long. There was only so much he could take, after all. Having her wash his arms was more relaxing than he thought it would be. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto her shoulder, letting go all but one tension. Graceful hands caressed his torso, her lips traveling along his neck, down onto his shoulder as nimble fingers wrapped the washcloth softly around his length.

Gripping the sides of the tub again, this time to give her the needed leverage; he moaned with the pleasure of what she was doing to him. Turning his head, he planted kissed along her jaw, arching back to nibble at her neck. Taylor slowly, gently (sadistically), began to stroke him off, other hand sliding beneath the water to feather touches around his hips, his groin; trailing lazily across his lower stomach. Gasping, he threw his head back, giving himself over entirely to the tender flame of her embrace. As if his body had been waiting for that final surrender, his stomach clenched in a blinding white-out of a climax, washcloth catching the mess while her other hand turned his head so she could give him the softest, briefest kiss he'd ever enjoyed; the gentle brush of a hummingbird's wings.

''Whoa.'' He pulled himself upright, watching the now-soiled washcloth drop to the tiles with a damp _plop_. His addiction slid around him, he pulled her back against him when she tried to step out of the tub. ''My turn.'' All (not very sincere) struggles ceased, she leaned back into his chest with a dreamy sigh. Retrieving the second washcloth, leaving the bar set in the wall empty of fabric, he began to wipe her arms with the sweet-smelling water. Ryan turned his face into her neck, inhaling the rich aroma that had mingled intoxicatingly with her already heady scent.

''Rose oil.'' She arched her neck, allowing his mouth access to her skin, his hands continuing to wash her with deliberate slowness. ''Some medieval women believed a bath of milk and roses would keep their skin youthful and blemish-free. I supposed it's not any stranger than mud-wraps or oatmeal facials.'' He chuckled at the way her voice shook over the last few words, a direct result of his 'cleaning activities' moving onto her chest. Ryan caressed every inch of her flawless skin with the damp cloth, tracing patterns on her now-trembling flesh after each pass of terrycloth. ''I thought the milk……might be ………a little much……..'' Gasping, she tried to arch into his touch; he teasingly moved his fingers **away** from the heat between her legs, smoothing his palms over her inner thighs.

As much as he wanted to repay her for torturing him by drawing out her pleasure just as slowly as she had his; the desire to see her once more caught up in the ecstasy of his embrace was fast overtaking him. Payback was insignificant in the face of his need to see her orgasm; to watch her face as she lost herself in the sensations of what he, and he alone, could do to her. Before he knew it, he was sliding fingers into her folds, stroking his thumb rhythmically over her clit, mouthing her neck as he held her shuddering form tight against his chest.

Twice he brought her to climax with the touch of his hands, the washcloth floating forgotten in the cooling water. Having her writhing in his arms wakened him again, making the movements of his fingers more insistent, his lips firmer on her neck. Taylor scrabbled one hand blindly over the little shelf next to the tub, nearly knocking over one of the candles in her search for the condom she'd tucked behind the votive glass. He plucked it from her shaking grip, releasing her for the brief moment it took for him to cover himself, for the two of them to find the most convenient position to satisfy the mutual longing.

This time, when he eased her back against his chest, he had his legs closed; and she was lowering herself onto his lap with great, gasping breaths. Breaths he echoed as his member slid into her tight folds, his fingers clenching on her breasts, hers trembling white on the sides of the tub. She settled into place with a moaning twitch of her hips, driving a groan up out from deep in his chest at the jump in the intensity of his pleasure. Slow and romantic be damned, he dropped his grasp to her waist and lifted her up a short distance, pulling her back down sharply, impaling her onto him.

She arched, crying out in obvious appreciation of this action. Ryan bucked his hips upwards, uncaring of the water sloshing around and out of the tub as she started to move with him, arms trembling in the fight for the necessary leverage. He leaned forward a little and locked his lips around the tiny bump at the beginning of her spine, sucking with lascivious purpose. A love-bite on the back of her neck wouldn't be visible to anyone, especially not with her hair hanging down in her usual barretted style. Taylor wasn't taking a gym class, so he didn't have to worry about her having to hear the kind of remarks he put up with from the team, every day after soccer practice. He truthfully got kind of a kick out of knowing they had the right idea (that his lover was a wild woman), just the wrong girl. Not that they'd ever believe him, even if he dared tell them the identity of who it was he belonged to, whose property those marks declared him to be.

Approaching completion in complete unison with her once again, he closed his eyes in the flickering, dream-like glow of the candles.

Opening them several eternities (and twelve hours) later, he tried to shake the memory of the night before so he could get through the day without an embarrassing bulge in his pants. Any hope that his brother would let the opportunity to needle him slide was dashed by, of all people, _Kirsten_.

''Something smells nice.'' The woman commented, inhaling deeply; the sound of her deep breath covering the snickers from her natural-born son.

''Wonder what it could be?'' Seth asked, smirking at him as they made their way out the door. As they passed through, he shoved the taller boy forcibly into the doorjamb, ignoring the yelp of startled pain.

That should (hopefully) put an end to the guy making any further observations on his aroma.

Taylor should've warned him that the stuff lingered even after you tried to wash it off, damn it. Maybe she had intended to, before he scrambled her brain with what his friend called his 'Chinoness'. Newport's Ryan or Chino's Ryan; he **still** had the scent of roses clinging to him as stubbornly as the memories washing through his brain like the tide. That and the knowledge that there was no way in hell his friends _**weren't**_ going to comment on the situation were going to make this a **very** long day.

By whatever name, he certainly wasn't _feeling_ as sweet as he smelled.

--xxx--

''I can't believe you just did that.'' Summer shook her dark head, following her friend towards the patio. ''I can't believe you asked Kyle Nordlund to a concert.''

''I can't believe he said 'yes'.'' Taylor looked around, sighed with disappointment that _**he**_ wasn't there yet. As soon as he'd set eyes on her this morning, he'd turned red and gained an abiding interest in his feet. Adorable as it was, she'd asked the next name on her list for a date to shift _**his**_ attitude away from abject humiliation. Of course, the news of their (hers and Summer's) plans for this weekend would probably send him into a state of jealous brooding.

Brooding was, however, **much** hotter than blushing.

''No, I meant asking him out at all. He's a hound.'' It was nice of her friend to be so worried. Not that there was anything to worry about. She had a plan with sufficient flexibility, the support of people who actually_ liked_ her, and, if necessary, black belts in two different disciplines.

Seriously, the girl was over-reacting.

''Well, it's not like I won't have you and Seth and Anna and Ryan to keep him in line.'' Reminding the other of the (usually) ameliorating effects of an audience on the cruder members of the student body didn't even slow the protest down.

''Wishful thinking, Townsend.'' Summer gave one of her trademark snorts, sounding even more concerned as well as disdainful. ''Keeping his hands off you is gonna take a** lot** more than our group. I doubt the crowd at the **club** will be enough. He's a goon.''

''That's good.'' She was pulled around, the brunette giving her the old familiar 'you must be insane' look. ''It's all part of the plan, you know.''

''No, I **don't** know.'' Arms crossed over the chest, the glare from her new friend's darkening eyes was too strong just to be a doubt of her sanity. What could……..Oh. She'd forgotten that Ryan _also_ counted the girl as a friend, if only for her connection to his brother. Which meant the force behind the glare was based (most likely) as much in concern for Taylor's safety (regarding Kyle) as it was in concern about Taylor's sincerity (regarding Ryan). ''Suppose you tell me.''

''Okay.'' Her ready agreement obviously took the girl by surprise. Taylor glanced around until she spotted a good table, one where they could see people approaching long before anyone entered earshot. Dragging the brunette to it, she sat down, making sure that everyone was still ignoring her. Yep, she was invisible. One party wasn't near enough to alter years of behavior, no matter how popular her newly-acquired friends were. ''You know the long-term goal: getting my mother to accept……..that guy.'' She couldn't see any eavesdroppers, but there was no need to tempt fate. For all she knew, other people at this school had the ability to read lips.

''See, that's what I'm not getting. If you get a rep with guys like Kyle, won't your mother just send you off anyway? Like she would if you dated……..that guy?'' Summer joined in her careful phrasing, brow furrowing as she obviously tried to fathom the mind of Veronica Townsend. Taylor wished her luck. She'd been trying for sixteen years and _still_ hadn't achieved total understanding.

''Ah, but if I started out dating _**him**_, or dated him before I had a 'bad rep'; then she'd blame _**him**_, not me. _**He**_ has a background she looks down on, so he's the automatic scapegoat for my 'ruin' and her loss of a chance to marry me into an influential Newport family.'' Her friend looked sickened, and she nodded to convey that the woman in question really thought in this warped and twisted version of logic. ''She'd send me away, probably to 'try again' somewhere else; and ruin _**his**_ life in retaliation.'' They both quieted, letting a gaggle of cheerleaders pass; sitting there in sober contemplation. Once the bobble-headed bimbos had passed……. ''Now, if I date the scions of Orange County and get a rep as a 'bad girl', she'll blame **me** and keep me **here** so I can suffer the humiliation of being known as the school slut. My reputation gets bad enough, she won't mind at all if I date _**him**_.'' Taylor shrugged at the gaze of disbelieving respect and sympathy. ''She might even use it as a 'bonding experience' with the rest of her crowd.'' Affecting her mother's harsh tones, she flicked her hand imperiously. ''Like: 'What am I supposed to do when she's this out of control? I just hope the little brat doesn't end up pregnant.' Stuff like that.''

''Your own _**mother**_.'' The tone was one of deep disgust, the other girl looked like she wanted to give Veronica a demonstration of her infamous 'rage blackouts'. Satisfying as that would be, she didn't want the only female friend she had to be brought up on charges by her she-wolf of a mother. ''What a _**bitch**_, and don't tell me not to cuss, because there just isn't another word to describe her and you know it.''

''Know what?'' Anna asked, setting her lunch tray down on the table. Apparently, she had some pretty fantastic hearing to have picked up on even part of their conversation as she approached. Seth and Ryan were trailing her, holding trays of their own.

''That I'm starving.''

It wasn't the most graceful of exits, but it got them out of a potentially explosive discussion. Ryan had serious (very vocal) problems with her plan, mostly stemming from the fact that** he'd** be the one forced to listen to most of the rumors about her, given his presence in the jock's sanctum sanctorum (also known as the locker room) as a member of Harbor's soccer team. That, and he always reacted badly whenever she brought up the touchy subject of her mother's treatment of her or the even _touchier_ subject of 'dating' his teammates. Nothing they wanted the rest of the student body being witness to, so it was a good thing she wasn't going to tell him about Nordlund until they rendezvoused, later that day.

A good thought (delaying the news until he was free to react to it) totally blown apart by Murphy's Law.

The coach switched the practice schedule (from Thursday to Tuesday) to accommodate his son's dentist appointment; thereby enabling Kyle to brag about his intentions of 'scoring a piece of Townsend' as Chip had failed (at least the stoner was honest) to do. To say that Ryan was pissed at her (inadvertently or not) setting him up to be blind-sided was an understatement.

She was on her way to the parking lot after debate team when rough hands yanked her into an empty class room, sending her stumbling against the desk. Whirling and raising her hands defensively, she saw that _**he**_ had taken the time to change out of his uniform, but not to shower. The door slamming sounded like a gunshot, matching the mood of his darkly swirling blue eyes perfectly.

He looked ready to explode and sexy as hell.

''Where you going to fucking **tell** me? Or just let me stew until Friday? If I was even** invited** on your little '_outing_'.'' Ryan was snarling bitterly, but there was as much pain as anger in his voice. She relaxed her protective stance, letting him get close, feeling the heat of his rage as he planted his fists on the desk top to either side of her hips. ''Well? Nothing to say? And here I thought only one thing could shut _**you**_ up.'' She didn't feel like hearing the accusations his fear and insecurities would unleash at her, so she grabbed his scowling face between her hands and kissed him.

He moaned in the back of his throat, kissing her back fiercely, clutching her to him with an air of desperation. Nothing had prepared her for this, this hungry scattering of common sense. With a growl, he grabbed the hem of her blouse, buttons pattering around the room as he yanked at the fabric. She tugged at his shirt, moaning into his mouth, losing all control. It didn't matter that the blinds weren't drawn, that the door was most likely unlocked. All that mattered was what _**he**_ wanted, what she wanted to give to him and no other. She said as much (whimpered it, really) when they finally broke the lip-lock in a gasping need for air. The statement did nothing to gentle his actions; if anything, he got even more aggressive, more insistent. Good thing, too; because she **needed** to have him, needed him like she needed air or food or sleep.

Needed him now,** right** now, right** here**.

Because if she had to wait any longer, she just knew she was going to die.

Fortunately, today she'd worn a front-clasped bra, which meant her lingerie, at least, stood a good chance of surviving this encounter. Unlike her blouse which, in addition to the missing buttons, now had a huge rip where he'd tried to pull it off her shoulder without releasing her from his embrace first_**. His**_ shirt had fared a little better, only one or two small rips when he struggled free of the fabric and tossed it against the chalkboard with an impatient muttering that had to contain at least one profanity, if not several. Her skirt was shoved roughly up her thighs to bunch around her waist, her panties levered aside, the desktop cool under her butt as he lowered her onto it.

The snap and drawl of button and zipper were barely audible over the noises she was making, his lips and teeth just shy of bruising on her breasts and neck. He'd never been like** this** before, animal and wild, without a shred of hesitation or conscious thought. The knowledge that someone could walk in and catch them at _any moment_ made her cling dizzily to his shoulders as he knelt between her legs, lowering himself (she distantly recognized the slick touch of latex, but couldn't have cared less) into her waiting core with quick, sharp movements of his hips. Ryan braced himself on his forearms, the unknown teacher's materials falling forgotten to the floor as he began to thrust. She couldn't help but return the motion, caught up once again in the delirious pleasure of what he did to her.

The universe spun madly, Taylor dimly heard the clatter of pens hitting the linenoleum; her legs wrapped enthusiastically behind his plunging ass. She couldn't look away from the piercing intensity of his gaze, biting her lip on the loud moans sounds she didn't dare to voice. It couldn't be anything but **good**, this feeling of his hard length moving inside her, making her want to scream, making her hands shake as she ran them tenderly through his hair. Nothing that felt** this** right could be wrong, no matter what her mother would say. She drew breath to usher in her climax with a vocal expression of ecstasy when he suddenly leaned in and covered her mouth with his, swallowing her screams and groaning his response around her tongue. A millennium of sweaty, moaning exercise later, he collapsed against her torso, body limp atop her in the aftermath of their joint orgasms. She felt the first wave of tension pass through his frame, saw the flash of guilty regret in his eyes as he raised his head and decided she wasn't having any of it..

''So that's what a good, hard fuck is like.'' She stretched underneath him, arms reaching over her head; making sure he heard the lazy satisfaction of her voice, that he saw the completely relaxed and sated set to her features. ''Nice. Only; next time?'' She looked down at their still-joined bodies, damp with more than perspiration and grinned teasingly at his bashful look. ''Try not to ruin my clothes? That blouse was a Chanel, you know.''

--xxx--

Kyle Nordlund was an asshole.

Not that _**that**_ was any great surprise to anyone. Seth had, after all, repeatedly warned them of the fact, identifying the guy as a member of the 'pee-in-Cohen's-shoes' club. This revelation had caused most of the group to again urge Taylor to choose someone else, **anyone** else, to escort her to The Bait Shop for their evening of live music. She'd refused, and Ryan had surprised everyone (not the least of which was himself) by supporting her.

The thing was, a guy like Kyle would **not** pass up the chance to brag on 'nailing' Taylor Townsend, especially if it wasn't true. She would thereby be 'disgraced' that much sooner; bringing him** that** much closer to being able to take her out in a public, official, capacity. Granted, Anna would have to be 'dumped' prior to that; but she'd agreed that after weeks (he hoped, he didn't think he could stand **months** of this deception) of dating 'the Chino stud', she'd have an unshakeable rep as a straight girl. That, and the 'badges of carnal prowess' (Seth's term) she'd (supposedly) left all over him would prevent **anyone** from giving any credence to the thought of her being a lesbian. Come to think of it, he'd better have _her _dump **him**. No one would buy him ditching a woman who left hickeys on his lower abdomen, after all.

''Now remember……'' Seth teased him as they climbed into the car to meet the girls. They weren't, unfortunately, going to be picking up Taylor or Kyle.** That** pair was meeting them at the club, which made him all kinds of tense. He didn't trust the_ puto_ within a foot of _**her**_, not for a second. ''This is a date, not a swap meet. No trades.''

''No Summer, huh?'' The joke fell a very flat, the growling tone of irritation in his voice was probably what killed it. ''Sorry.'' Ryan didn't want his jealousy to get out of control, _**she**_ had already expressed her growing lack of patience with it. She was** just** as envious of Anna, she'd told him. Protests that her resenting his fake girlfriend was ridiculous died in his throat as he realized what she was jealous **about**. Not the (non-existent) sex, but everything **else**.

Being able to sit next to him, to talk to him openly, to be introduced to the Cohen's (and everyone else) as what she **was**, to spend time with him without having to suss out the details like a general planning an invasion. All the little things Seth and Summer were starting to do, all the romantic touches that made a relationship. **Now** he was jealous of the two brunettes as well as the list of bone-heads who were an integral part of _**her**_ master plan. Having to sneak around meant that much of their time together was taken up by sex. Not that he was complaining, fucking Taylor was the best fix, and he had no intentions of 'drying out'. He just didn't want the physical aspects of their connection to start over-shadowing the rest of it. He was probably the only guy in history who was actually **glad** when his girlfriend got her period; because it allowed them to bond on levels other than the carnal.

Seeing _**her**_ standing in the parking lot, looking up with a smile of false interest and strained civility on her face; he wanted to pull her into the car and drive far, far away; somewhere they wouldn't have to hide. Somewhere she wouldn't have to pretend to be interested in a guy like Kyle Nordlund. It was impossible, and he took a deep breath to steady his control before joining his friends.

The bastard wasted some minutes in the parking lot, bragging on his car. Ryan wanted to point out all the problems with driving a Porsche, beginning with the neurotic transmission, but kept his mouth shut in acknowledgement of his auburn beauty's warning look. Putting down her date wasn't the actions of someone who was 'just a friend', he had to play it cool. They eventually moved toward the club, the jock taking the opportunity to leer openly at Summer and Anna; clapping **him** on the back and congratulating him on 'scoring' such a 'hot babe'. Seth was ignored entirely, but the comments to his brother's girlfriend about how 'unsatisfied' she must be and how he could 'help her out' were making the normally easy-going guy's fists clench whitely. To say nothing of the hard black look that the girl in question was giving the asshole.

Putting an obviously unwelcome arm around Taylor's shoulders (he fought the urge to teach the jerk a lesson in manners, Chino-style), Kyle tried to lead the girl to a secluded corner. Protesting that she wanted a good view of the band, she planted her feet stubbornly in a nicely public section bordering the dance floor. Good luck moving her _now_, jackass, he thought sourly to himself. **Granite** isn't as immovable as that girl when she makes up her mind. The pleasant thought that she wasn't going to allow the fuck-stick to dictate the terms of the evening let him relax a little.

Unfortunately, that relief was short-lived.

Apparently, the guy wasn't** acting** like an asshole; he really **was** one. He kept the arm around her all night, acting like her sleeping with him was a done deal. Several times, Ryan had to excuse himself for a break from the way the son-of-a-bitch's vulgar innuendo and thinly-veiled lusting after every girl in sight made his fists itch to rearrange the jack-off's face. Once or twice, he was joined by his foster brother; for the same reason, which meant that the dipshit's behavior was_** really**_ exasperating. He hadn't thought there was limit to how much Seth would put up with in the name of courtesy and friendship.

Ignoring his date, acting like every girl in the place was naked and wanted him (doubtful), inviting another guy's girlfriend into a three-way (that was never going to happen), right in front of said guy: there didn't seem to be a limit to the ways this _pendejo_ could piss everyone off. They even missed the band, because the shithead tried to get the bartender to serve him a screwdriver (the attempt included a bribe) and made a loud nuisance of himself when the man refused; getting them **all** thrown out. The group re-assembled at the Cohen's, hours earlier than the planned after-snackage. Fortunately, Kirsten and Sandy were only watching some old romantic flick, not 'scaring their offspring for life', as Seth put it.

Summer expressed a desire to watch the movie, echoed by the other girls and loudly protested by the dumbass with a scathing opinion of the other teens' coolness factor. He even went so far as to make several inappropriate remarks about the two adults, observing that only the heavily medicated (or drunk) passed up on a chance to have sex whenever they could. No one dared say anything, a set and dangerous expression coming over The Kirsten's face. Fortunately, Taylor chose that moment to 'feel sick', asking the moron to take her home. Winking at him with (unwarranted) victorious suggestion, Kyle followed her outside; leaving everyone else to breath a sigh of relief.

''What an _**ass**_.'' Summer fumed, planting her small fists on her hips, glaring at the door before turning away with an annoyed huff. ''Poor Taylor.''

''Summer, don't say 'ass'.'' The Kirsten scolded, sounding like she was doing it out of habit rather than sincerity. She looked more curious than disapproving, actually. It must've been the sympathetic comment about _**her **_that peaked the woman's interest. Sure enough, she asked: ''Why 'poor Taylor'?''

''Because, mother dear, **that** guy………'' Bitter disgust colored the boy's tone, snide disdain dripping from his words. ''……..is what Veronica Townsend considers a _suitable candidate_ to become her daughter's boyfriend.'' Ryan stood staring at the door, ignoring the rest of the group in his anxious state. ''She doesn't even_**like**_ him; not that I blame her in the least. The guy's……well, jerk seems too mild a word to use and you won't let us curse, so……….'' Sandy's chuckle didn't pull his attention from the front entrance; he blocked out the conversation around him as he tried to hear through the wood and glass, **knowing** something was wrong.

Because he hadn't heard the car start.

He heard the shriek, though.

He was out the door and halfway down the driveway before it occurred to him that rushing to _**her**_ rescue _might_ look a little odd to his foster mother, the only one of them not 'in the know'. Such considerations took a back seat to making sure _**she**_ was all right; but even** that** concern fled his mind when he laid eyes on the sight before him. Helplessly, he started to snicker, bracing himself on the side of the Range Rover as everyone else came up and got a good look at what he was laughing at.

Kyle was curled up at Taylor's feet, tucked into the fetal position with his hands between his legs and tears running down his pain-filled face. Anna began chuckling as well, Summer gasped with joy, and Seth started muttering darkly about 'missing everything good'. Their friend turned to them (not a hair out of place, he was delighted to see), focusing on the two adults with a glint of victorious satisfaction in her hazel eyes. What she said shattered any control he had left, driving him whooping with amusement (and the release of all the night's tension) to lean heavily against the Cohen's vehicle.

''I think he needs some ice.''

--xxx—

**A/N 2: **To be continued next chapter. And then the story ends on Halloween (the events in the last chapter, not the actual RL date) baring any further inspiration.

Tell the bunnies to stop 'hugging' my leg, Waltzy!


	6. family secrets

**A/N: **Sorry for the massive delay. I've been ill. I know, again? What can I say? RL sucks.

Kudos to Vex for a local and, as always, to Waltzy for all her help.

And, yes; I most likely got some of the more scientific of my facts wrong.

Live with it.

--xxx—

''Taylor!''

In horror, she raised her lips from where she'd been kissing her way down his toned stomach. Blue eyes, equally as horrified, stared into her hazel soul with wondering, frozen terror. The same two words were topmost in both of their minds.

Oh_** shit**_.

''Taylor!''

Footsteps started up the stairs, firing them both into action. Taylor jumped up from her position straddling his knees and frantically tried to re-button her blouse. Her hands were trembling **far **too much and she yanked the fabric off, tossing it into the hamper and scrambling into a t-shirt. Seeing Ryan fumbling his jeans closed reminded her she was only wearing panties, and she pulled a pair of sweats quickly on. Her boyfriend snatched his two shirts and pair of sneakers off the floor, ducking into the closet as the footsteps of her mother reached the top of the stairs.

''Taylor!''

From the tone of voice, Veronica was becoming irritated with her daughter's lack of response. Knowing she had to have an excuse for both the rumbled nature of her bed and the silence, Taylor shoved her I-pod's ear jacks in place and flopped face-down onto her bed, opening the manga off her nightstand to a random page. She tried to settle her breathing, to focus on the story she was pretending to read.

Upside down, she realized with dread, just as her mother entered the room.

''What are you……'' Tanned fingers pulled at white cord and she affected surprise, rearing back as if in shock and hoping with all her heart it wouldn't occur to the woman to check the half-open closet.

''Mom!'' She rolled over and sat up, setting the manga aside. She made no move to hug or otherwise greet the elder Townsend.** That** would be so out of character that she'd check _herself_ into the mental institution. ''What are you doing back so early?'' She prayed that she didn't sound too guilty. Or like she was up to no good. ''Something go wrong in Miami?''

''No, everything in Miami was **fine**.'' Veronica crossed her arms, looking very put out. ''Until I got a call about your …….behavior.'' She frowned, glaring with obvious expectation at her offspring. ''Well? What do you have to say for yourself?''

''I don't know what you're talking about.'' She can't _**know**_, part of Taylor's brain was saying. The rest was scrambling over every single encounter with_** him**_ since coming back from Mexico. Chills crawled up her spine when she recalled the event on top of that desk, when they hadn't secured either the windows or the door. Oh no. Trying not to cry, she waited for the accusation. It would be easier to negotiate for leniency if she stayed silent until the other Townsend confirmed the end of her involvement with _**him**_. She fought to keep her face impassive despite the pain she was feeling, a trick she'd perfected over **years** of her mother's verbal harassment.

''I'm _talking_ about the phone call I got from Sheila Nordlund!'' Relief almost collapsed every muscle she had. This was about what she'd done to _**Kyle**_? Thank God. She'd take a tongue-lashing for the bruising** that** jerk had taken from her over having to give_** him**_ up, any day. ''If you're going to be rough trade with these boys, you might want to make sure that **they're** into it as well.'' A heavy long-suffering sigh, and the woman glared around the room with blatant distaste. ''I swear, Taylor; if you weren't so much of a _**freak**_, I wouldn't have to protect these boys from you. Why didn't you just go after Seth Cohen? He's a freak, too; and he really can't afford to be picky, not with his low social standing.''

''He's dating Summer Roberts now.'' She fought the urge to smile at the absolute shock on the woman's face. Taylor settled for the inner satisfaction of having surprised her mother at all, keeping her expression smooth and civilly placid from long experience.

''Well, at **least** you had the good sense to befriend Summer. How you pulled **that **off is a mystery.'' Lips pursed, Veronica subjected her to the assessing glare she'd come to expect at least_ once_ during each face-to-face conversation. ''I guess every pretty girl needs a fat, ugly acquaintance.'' Tears threatened, she swallowed them back, dropping her gaze to her feet. ''Try and not screw up the next one, if there's even a boy** left** who'll risk going out with an S and M _**slut**_.'' She stood, 'accidentally' knocking her manga to the floor to cover the sudden rustle from the closet. ''I can't believe you're **my **daughter. You are such a **klutz**.'' Her mother turned to leave, tossing a few last remarks over her shoulder. ''Seriously, I can't be rushing back here_ every_ time you let your baser impulses get out of hand. One more 'incident' like the last one, and a boarding school will seem like **heaven** compared to where I'll find to send you.'' Not an empty threat, she'd seen the brochures for the places that dealt (some very harshly) with 'troubled girls'.

''Yes, mother.'' The door slammed after the older woman, leaving her whispering to the inner side of it. ''Nice to have you home.'' The clacking thump of footsteps marched down the hall, down the stairs, and were lost in the lower level of the house. She didn't know which was worse; the familiarity of what had just happened, or that _**he'd**_ been witness to it.

''Well, **she's** full of it..'' Ryan's arms came around her, his chest still bare from what they'd been up to before being so rudely interrupted. She turned and buried her head in his shoulder, snuggling into the comfort of his embrace. Comforting not only because of their (still unspoken) connection, but also because of his total and complete understanding of what it _**felt**_ like to **know** (and live with that knowledge) that one's parents didn't care about (or actively hated) you. Faint noises from downstairs reminded her that, as much as she **needed** him; they couldn't afford to risk discovery. ''You know that, right?''

''I know.'' Reluctantly, she pushed back, hands on his chest so she could look into his kind, concerned, affectionate gaze. As much as she wanted to kiss him…….. ''You have to go.'' She pulled free and went over the window, unlatching it and holding the drapes aside. ''Here. You can climb down………''

''No, I can't.'' He tugged his shirts down over his bare skin so hard that a rip appeared along the bottom. His face was as white as his knuckles.

''Of course you can, it's……''

''I'm scared of heights.''

''Oh.'' Well, that explained the weird look he'd gotten, back in TJ; when she mentioned the helicopter. At the time, she'd thought he was freaked over her following him, but it looked like it was the idea of being that far up in the air that wigged him out. ''She doesn't usually pass out until well after midnight, and you have a curfew.'' They needed to think of **something** to get him out of the house without her mother noticing. Preferably before the Cohens became suspicious of how long he was taking for tonight's 'study date' and started calling around. Thinking of what her mother was likely doing right at this precise moment made her smile with relief. ''I know! You can just walk downstairs and right out the door.''

''Really.'' Ryan looked up from where he was tying his sneakers; his tone doubtful, his expression said he obviously thought she was kidding.

''Really.'' She took his hand as he stood and dragged him towards her bedroom door, peeking around it; just to be sure. The coast, as the saying went, was clear. ''Right now, she's most likely on the phone; arranging her schedule to go back to work as soon as possible.'' Taylor peered down the empty stairs, pulling her lover along behind her as she descended. ''She'll be out of here in a couple of days.'' Whispering seemed prudent, even with the raised voice coming from her mother's study. ''End of the week, tops.'' They reached the door, her fingers flying over the keypad as she entered the code; shooting nervous glances over her shoulder.

''Good.'' Danger or not, she was grateful that he paused on his way out the door; just long enough to kiss her, fingers feathering along her jaw and neck. ''We can pick up where we left off.'' He murmured it into her cheek; she felt his lips stretching in a smile against her skin, no doubt amused by her spastic nodding. A rise in the volume coming from the other room pushed them apart, leaving her staring longingly after him as he made his way through the darkness to where he'd stashed the Range Rover.

Taylor returned to her room with her mother none the wiser, something that **should** have made her happy. To have the woman be this easy to fool because of her absolute disinterest in her daughter's life; to carry on with this liaison (that had somehow led to her having friends) practically under her very nose; to be able to take advantage of Veronica's lack of involvement in her life: all of these facts added up to an asset. It was great.

**Really**, she told herself as tears started rolling down her face and she fell into the old familiar pattern of crying herself to sleep. Having my mom not give a shit about me is a_ good_ thing.

--xxx—

''……your fashion sense and sense of humor and you being weird, which totally helps me comprehend Cohen……..'' Summer was drawing breath to continue the list of the reasons the brunette had befriended her when Taylor threw up her hands in surrender, laughing. She hadn't meant to bring last night's incident up, but with her lover sulking between shooting her concerned looks; she'd had to say **something** to explain his behavior and it had all just come spilling out of her.

''Okay, I get it; my mother was wrong.'' The universal angry muttering and disdainful snorts around the table were comforting in a way she wanted to become used to. Everyone appeared to be incensed on her behalf, even the two laid-back members (Anna and Seth) of their group were scowling. ''I think I'll take a break in the dating, though. Give the rumors time to spread.'' Ryan looked relived for a split second, before an expression of irritated nausea crossed his face. He'd apparently just remembered **where **the gossip was likely to be most prevalent and how much time he'd be spending there.

''I'm crushed. I don't think that's a good idea at **all**.'' Seth's comment earned him strange looks from his friends, and a harsh glare from his foster brother. ''If you don't date the jock-faces, I'll miss out on primo sights like Nordlund curled into a little ball and whimpering.'' The blonde boy snorted his amusement, relaxing. The others simply shook their heads, Taylor spoiling her sharp stare at the tall boy with a twitch in the corner of her mouth that wanted to become a smile. ''You can never have too much of that kind of thing, in my opinion.''

''As may be.'' The bell cut her off, the group gathering their belongings to return to morning classes.

''Meet me for lunch?'' _**His**_ quiet invitation went unnoticed in the crush between classes, Anna's nearby presence ready to lend a cover for the fact he was speaking to her.

''Text me.'' Much as she wanted to tease him about waiting until that afternoon, she knew they didn't dare get together (post-school hours) while her mother was in town.

Not off-campus, anyway.

That, and she didn't think she could hold out that long, herself. Her blood was singing in her veins just being in the same room with _**him**_. Good thing she'd sat between Summer and Anna at the table, sitting next to the subject of her lustful imaginings/vivid memories probably would've been far more than her fragile self-control could handle. It was truthfully a little annoying, because no sooner had she tamped down on her reaction (tight nipples, damp panties) to his voice, his scent would hit her (dull throbbing, aching for his touch) right below her stomach. Gaining control of the effects of inhaling his aroma, she became lost (dry lips, itching in her palms to caress) in the line of his jaw, the sparkle of his blue eyes. It was _**maddening**_, not in the least ameliorated by the knowledge (the way he clenched his jaw, shifted in his seat) that he was involved in the same struggle.

What she'd come to think of as 'their' closet was deserted, which wasn't really all that surprising. One of the reasons she'd selected it was how seldom it saw use as even a place to store extra supplies. Another was it's out-of-the-way location. Very few people traveled down this hallway, even during school hours. Enough to cover their own movements, but not so many (or so few) that those movements would be noteworthy. Slipping into the small room, she was only mildly disappointed to see that she'd beat him there. By only seconds, it turned out, as he entered the room, acting casual and unconcerned to throw off anyone who might be watching.

''Taylor.'' She knew that sound; that frustrated, growling whisper of lust and affection. He wanted her, was practically_ shaking_ with the force of it; but he held back, no doubt concerned about her emotional state. Sweet as it was, she needed the physical confirmation of her desirability to gain the confidence and strength to endure the knots her mother was going to tie her into without having a nervous breakdown.

''Please…….'' Her hand trembled, extended in his direction. Taylor watched his face as he stared at her, realization entering his gaze as his touch drew a shaky moan from deep in her throat. He pulled her towards him by their entwined fingers, his kiss gentle on her aching lips. ''Ryan…….'' **Too** gentle. Too _**soft**_.

She shifted her grip from his hand to his hair, turning their lip-lock insistent and hungry. He got the idea quickly enough, the pressure of his mouth, his tongue, his hands; became satisfactorily firm. Feeling her body's swift reaction, she pushed at his shoulders; downward instead of away. Almost, he knelt; but the alteration in her grip led Ryan to sit on the floor. Gasping for breath, she finally pulled her lips away from his, tugging her blouse off over her head and tossing it aside. Straddling his legs became more comfortable when she hitched her skirt up to her waist, aided by his eager hands. She went to work on the fastenings of his pants, showing her appreciation of the kisses he was planting all over her chest (he was slipping her breasts over the top of her bra, rubbing his knuckles softly over the nipples) by the muffled sounds she was making.

Getting him free and safe was the easy part. Staying quiet once she impaled herself onto his latex-covered length was the har………was the difficult one. Kissing him **did** silence her cries (mostly); but it** also** intensified the sensation of having the very essence of his masculinity creating such mind-blowing friction within the core of her femininity. Trembling, Taylor moved quickly up and down, back and forth; aware of his equally passionate actions as he matched her. Unity of desire, of rhythm, even of climax bound them as they arced and gasped in their sweat-inducing tangle; fighting to achieve the limits of their pleasure while remaining utterly (best they could actually manage was mostly) silent.

This time, he broke first; burying his face in her neck, his fingers into her back as he came. She threw back her head, biting her lip as every muscle clenched in ecstasy, releasing her animal urges; leaving only solid, unwavering support and affection. Something stronger than affection, really; but the reasons the emotion had to remain unnamed were nothing she wanted to think too deeply about, just then. Right then, all she cared about was gasping hot air onto her collarbone, stroking his palms up and down her back soothingly.

''Feel better?'' Ryan sounded amused, his voice teasing and light. Whisper-soft, of course. No sense in spending all that effort to stay quiet (under **very** trying circumstances) and then blow it in the aftermath.

''Much better, thank you.'' Matching the tone as well as volume, she stood; twitching her hips to settle her skirt back into place. Retrieving her blouse, she ignored his mock-disappointed sigh when she shook it out and put it back on; signaling an end to this encounter. ''Meet you at the patio?''

''Naw.'' He'd apparently given up on a second round, standing and hitching his pants up. One of his all-purpose shrugs accompanied the explanation of why he was standing her up (okay, their group; but she **was** the one who wanted to see him most) for lunch. ''History project. I'll be in the library.'' Oh yes, she'd heard about that. Mid-semester projects were being assigned: the partnerships selected (by some random method) by the teachers. They were probably hoping to avoid last year's debacle of petty sabotage and back-stabbing when the students had chosen their own study partners.

She wished them luck, just as glad that AP students weren't subjected to such forced interaction Unless they were in one of the science classes, of course. But in **those** situations, it certainly helped to have a second set of eyes to catch any possible mistakes; so she was willing to overlook any personality conflicts in the interest of getting the job done.

''Who'd you get?'' The twist to his mouth as he answered her might've been a grin, if it weren't for the uncertainty in his expression.

''Luke.''

-xxx--

He didn't know what he'd been expecting.

A coked-up dilettante of a mother, like Summer's step-monster; maybe a distantly cold and heartless father-figure, like Caleb. He supposed he was even prepared for manipulative and jaded ego-maniacs, like Julie or Jimmie or Veronica. **Some** basis for what he saw as the insecurities underlying Luke's behavior towards Seth. He didn't have the same problem figuring out the guy's behavior towards him, Ryan; because anyone dating (or even attempting to date) Marissa was going to be in a constant state of self-doubt and uncertainty. But, aside from the setting, the taller blonde's family life was so normal it was almost scary.

The father sold cars, liked football, and came off somewhat suburban. Lacking the make-up and over-done outfit he'd learned was pretty much the Newpsie uniform; the mother was such an obvious house-wife that he half-expected her to offer them fresh-baked cookies and milk. The existence of two younger brothers was a shock but, once he got past the startlement of his former rival** having** siblings; their interactions reminded him forcibly of Trey and Arturo and Eddie. However much he wanted to put his old life behind him, he actually_ missed_ those three, sometimes.

Maybe he should write, just to let certain people (Theresa, her mom) know he was okay.

He'd talk to Sandy about it next month, he decided; during the holidays. The Cohens were the type of family that were sure to make a huge deal of the sentimental traditions of the season, so his bringing it up **then** had less of a chance of offending anyone. They could route the letters through the P.D.'s office, if there was a concern about any of his old acquaintances tracking him down and causing trouble. He doubted anyone would get any information out of 'Turo (he was as stubborn as his sister), but Eddie was a less certain prospect and Trey wasn't in a position to keep his personal correspondence_ private_. Pulling his thoughts away from where his real brother was at that moment (or what he was probably doing); Ryan focused on the boy who'd made his foster brother's life such a hell. The more time he spent with his teammate, the less sense it made.

''Ask you something?'' They were in the other's truck, on the way to Carson's dealership to take advantage of the man's audio-visual equipment. Using the stuff at the Wards' home was out of the question. Not only was the gear at the office more advanced, but the twins were monopolizing the home system for what appeared to be a video-game marathon/tournament, and he knew better (through Seth) to even suggest getting in the way of** that**.

''Sure.'' Luke had been easy to get along with all night, it was starting to creep him out, a little. Was it really Marissa's absence that eased things between them; or was it his actions on the soccer field?

Taylor would probably say that it was both.

''Why dump on Seth?'' There was a disbelieving look in the paler blue eyes and he clarified it a little. ''I know_ recently_ why; you're a jock, he's a geek; it's kind of like oil and water.'' A nod, the brow beginning to furrow with thought. Having destroyed rival schools with this kid as team captain; he knew his study-partner wasn't stupid. He just hoped there was an answer to his question, and that it wasn't 'just 'cause', the bully's response. ''I just wondered how it started.'' Figuring this out was essential if he was going to convince the other boy to help put a permanent end to the harassment that he didn't truly believe had stopped. Not completely, anyway.

''I don't know.'' Honest confusion colored the taller boy's tone, the radio was snapped off as an apparent distraction to the sudden internal examination. ''I think……….he was new? He was weird? You know what little kids are like.'' It was his turn to nod. He'd been on the receiving end of **that** crap when the Atwoods had moved to Chino. Hadn't lasted past that first fight, when he'd pounded some kid into the nurse's office; but that was hardly an option Seth had had open to him. He was about to ask what, in specific, had set these two on a collision course when the guy continued. ''This is going to sound petty as hell; but I think it was because of my brothers.'' Off his glance sideways: ''My parents were giving them all this attention, and then this new kid moves in. We have the same birthday and I guess……..I guess I was just nervous that my friends would like him better than me; just like my parents liked the new babies better than me.'' Pink tinted the other's face, and he received a sideways glance of his own as they pulled into the dealership. ''You tell Cohen any of that and I'll kill you.''

''You'll try.'' Ryan recognized the mock threat as a sign to stop, even as the rough teasing told him that there were no hard feelings for his prying. The show room's newest arrival made for a good distraction for them both; he had to remember that not everyone had Seth's (or Taylor's) comfort level with discussing personal matters and motivations. His hopes of bringing a total and complete halt to all the forms of teenaged torture his foster brother was still suffering from by forging a friendship between these two was crushed by what he looked up from the car and saw.

A shame, really; because Luke was going to need all the friends he could get to even **begin** to deal with the trauma of seeing his beloved father Frenching another man.

''Tell **no** **one**.'' He forgave the harsh grip as he exited the truck in the Cohen's driveway, knowing that his teammate had to be struggling with plans for damage control as well as trying to deal with this revelation.

''I have a girlfriend.'' Confusion kept the grip from tightening (he was able to **very** easily free his arm) but the eyes narrowed balefully. He could practically hear the other's protest that this information was no fair trade for the secret he'd just learned. A secret the Wards would no doubt be desperate to keep. Skating the edge of his **own** secret was the only way he could see to gain the trust he needed to continue his balancing act between being part of the team and being Seth's brother; a position necessary in order to protect said brother. ''It's not Anna.''

''I don't……'' Too many shocks, even if only** one** of them hit close to home. Ryan slammed the door, backing up so his assigned study-partner could see him through the window, could see the sincerity on his face.

''I can't say more than that; but it's a secret I'd like kept.'' Understanding flared, the bargain was accepted with a distracted nod, the vehicle departing with a squeal of tires. Holding up his end of it was going to be hard, though.

How the hell was he supposed to keep a secret from _**Taylor**_?

--xxx—

Staying quiet on the Ward matter was turning out to be easier than he thought. All he had to say to silence Seth's pleas for information was that, although he trusted his brother with his life; he wasn't about to hand over ammo on a guy who'd spent the last decade making Newport a living hell. The brunette had actually **thanked** him for not placing the temptation in his hands, saying that he had faith Ryan would tell him as soon as he could; just as he had with the Taylor situation. No one else in their group had any interest in his visit to Luke's home, though Summer made a remark about last night's 'study-date' not being as much fun as his usual ones.

No shit.

Lunch saw him back in the closet with_** her**_, conversation obviously the furthest thing from her mind as she fused her body to his, mouth open under his lips; barely giving him time to close and lock the door. Time passed in a heated blur, he had her skirt up around her waist, his kisses insistent on her neck as he waited (not very patiently) for Taylor to open his pants. He kept his left forearm behind her head, using the leverage to either lean into her or pull her head forward into him. With his right hand, he lifted one of her smooth-as-glass legs, caressing the back of her thigh as he held it against his hip in preparation.

**Finally**, she managed to release him, to secure them both against the potential consequences of their actions. Whimpers escaped her as he lifted her into place, easing himself into her molten core with a hiss as much of pleasure as of pain. Going without his fix (even if it was only a day) stiffened him to painful attention every time he laid eyes on her (even clothed) intensifying every encounter to the limits of his endurance. Tight silk enveloped him, making him shudder and moan; he was quick to muffle the sound with the honey of her mouth. She embraced his hips with her lower limbs, freeing him to place his right forearm next to the left; pressing them into the brick under her shoulders and affording him the leverage for deeper, sharper thrusts.

Taylor's cries vibrated around his tongue, her arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders, her hands traveling through his hair with wild abandon. Breaking the lip-lock to gasp for much-needed air, he felt her teeth on his neck with resigned pleasure. He didn't care that Kirsten had started giving him and Anna odd looks, eyes flicking over what love-bites were visible in confused concern. So long as she didn't sic Sandy on him for another 'talk', he wasn't about to ask his lover to stop marking him. Her enjoyment of his physical prowess was written all over his skin; each scratch a testimony, each red oval a badge of pride. It also provided much-needed fuel for the rumors they were using to build Anna's reputation as a straight girl; an argument that needed every speck of support, given how little he touched her, in public **or **private. He couldn't help it. Aside from _**her**_, there'd never been a girl he wanted to constantly touch; continually struggling against the urge (among others) to put his arms around her. Murmuring her name into her jaw as they raced in perfect harmony to completion was how he wanted to spend every second of every day.

''…….ite show is Dawson's Crack.''

''…….hear it's Everwoody.''

Laughter pulled him from the daze fucking_** her**_ always left him in, guiding him around the corner to where Luke was yanking things out of his locker with a stony expression. Brad and his friends were being their usual Asshat (Summer's term) selves, making snide remarks **obviously** intended to be overheard. The troubled gaze of the team's captain fell on him and sharpened into accusation. He shook his head, denying the charge, but unable to think of how the information had been leaked so quickly. Anna and Seth came up to him just as the object of Harbor's latest scandal shoved him back against the wall.

''Who'd you tell?'' Glares were directed towards his best friends and 'girlfriend' in hostile desperation for a scape-goat.

''Tell what?'' Seth asked, glancing around, most likely wondering if this was a set-up for something. Such paranoia was, after all, the reason the smart-mouthed teen was still alive. ''What's going on?'' His blatant confusion took him off the suspect list, from the look that crossed Luke's face; but Ryan was apparently still on it from the angry way the taller blonde was glaring at him.

''What's this all about?'' Anna asked, face tight with concern. He knew instantly where the conversation was heading by the victory that lit the paler blue eyes, the smug satisfaction in his voice.

''You know he's seeing someone else?'' She huffed with obvious disbelief at the statement, crossing her arms over her chest. He had to remember to suggest that she take up drama club; she was a superb actress. His brother wasn't as good; going pale and shooting nervous glances around at the crowd. A finger was pointed, directing attention to his reddening face. ''Ask him where he got the fresh mark on his neck if you don't believe me.''

Satisfied that what he apparently believed was a betrayal of trust had been avenged, the jock stomped off down the hall, leaving Ryan the center of malicious scrutiny. Too late, he realized that slapping a hand over the still-slightly-damp evidence (when the finger had jabbed his way) of his latest 'meeting' with _**her**_ wasn't the best way to hide his guilt. He slowly lowered his hand, trying to apologize to 'his girlfriend' with his gaze. Not for anything like cheating; more for what this would do to their respective cover stories.

Delighted gasps became audible as the evidence was revealed, amping up into snickers when the girl from Pittsburgh (playing her role perfectly) slapped the shit out of him. Even Seth flinched, jerking out of the petite blonde's 'angry' path; and this was a guy who had no problems handling the random violence that was Summer Roberts. As much as his cheek stung, he was more than a little relieved. Maybe **now** they could 'break up', setting him free from the lies, releasing him from the obligation of having to go on group dates with Taylor and whichever goon was up this week.

--xxx—

''I knew it all along, of course. Arms like that: **definitely** not straight.'' Veronica primped in front of the mirror, waiting for her cab. Taylor didn't know whether to be glad that her mother was leaving, or disgusted by the obvious glee over the Ward's misfortune. ''No **way** that mousy little thing could **ever** satisfy a** real** man.'' She fought back the urge to mention the three boys. Mrs. Ward had been desirable enough at least twice, lending credence to the argument that Mr. Ward was likely more bi than gay. Or perhaps he'd only recently discovered his true nature. Debating with the woman would only delay her departure, however; and she'd never wanted to see the last of the older Townsend so much in her life. ''You know, with this lowering of his family's social standing; Luke Ward just **might** be desperate enough to finally go out with you.'' Where on Earth was that cab? Surreptitiously checking her watch, she decided that filing a complaint with the company wasn't worth it. The driver was only five minutes late, really. ''I know you've waited a long time to fulfill that little fantasy of yours, but try and remember not to play** too** hard to get, he's used to girls who are actually_ attractive_; like Marissa Cooper.'' The cabbie honked and her mother snapped the bar up on her luggage, taking her leave.

Filing a complaint was **absolutely** the way to go. If the stupid cabbie had been competent and **on **_**time**_, she wouldn't have had to remember the summer she'd hit puberty, when she'd developed a crush on not only Luke, but most of the rest of the school's male population. Thank** God** her libido hadn't been able to settle on any** one** particular boy. She might've ended up like the rest of the bimbo bobble-heads in Newport; spending her days shopping and gossiping and her nights stoned or drunk in some jerk's bed.

The Plan may have it's drawbacks, but it was infinitely preferable to the alternatives, as she was sure_** he**_ would agree.

''Poor Luke.'' Taylor nodded in commiseration with Anna during afternoon break, wondering if she dared voice her suggestion. ''I wish I knew him better.'' The blonde girl shrugged off the curious looks of their group. ''Just saying. It wouldn't look so weird, my going to talk to him, if we had a history.'' Well, so much for the idea that the lesbian could somehow help the Ward family come to terms with this crises. Without a legitimate reason to approach them, a visit wouldn't be welcome.

''Well, if you were still 'speaking' to Ryan, the two of you could take that trip together.'' Seth commented drily, making her wonder what she'd missed during yesterday's lunch period. She'd taken so long to recover from _**their**_ time in the closet, she'd barely had time grab a sandwich before class. ''You should probably 'forgive' him.''

''Totally.'' Summer encouraged, while Taylor had to wonder what the boy had done. ''Say that he's not used to the girlfriend thing; I bet it's true.'' They were talking like he'd cheated on………..

''What happened?'' The guilty flinch across the table, the fact that he hadn't **once **looked at her (not even the brief glance that was usually all he dared); all added up to a calculated risk that had obviously turned out to be an awesomely stupid bone-head play.

''I told Luke Anna wasn't my girlfriend.'' Blue eyes begged absolution. She knew why he'd taken the chance; he'd told her all about his plan to gain the team captain as an ally in the effort to defend his foster brother. The information regarding his dating situation must've been revealed as some kind of peace offering. Or perhaps as an exchange, when Mr. Ward's true nature had been discovered.

''The hickey you gave him certainly didn't help.'' She blushed at Anna's tart comment, acknowledging her part in yesterday's fiasco. He'd mentioned that the visibility of the marks she left on him was becoming an issue; but she didn't see what she could really do about it. When Ryan took her, she stopped thinking entirely.

Made it a little difficult to restrain herself.

Restrain.

Restraints.

_**Him**_, bound naked to her bed, groaning as she had her way wi……….

''Taylor!'' Summer poked her, snapping her out of her fantasy. Since _**his**_ face wasn't bright red, she knew she hadn't said anything aloud.

Yet.

We should talk to him, make sure he's okay.'' Taylor nodded towards the two brunettes. ''Not you two, though. Seth is enjoying this** far** too much……''

''Can you blame me?''

''…….and he's not going to want Summer to see him 'like this'.''

''He's one of my oldest friends. I've seen him…..''

''Emotionally upset is different from drunk, stoned, hung over, or whatever other states you've bore witness to; over the years.'' The slow nod was acknowledgement of her point, she bit her lip as she considered the problem, doing her best to ignore the lustful grunt from across the table. No wonder_** he**_ seldom looked at her in public, if the simplest of her gestures had such an effect on him. ''I think they're right; I think you should totally forgive your 'boyfriend' and go over to Luke's with him.'' Ryan made a noise of protest, echoed by the blonde girl. She knew that the deception had started to grate on them both; especially after Summer and Seth were brought into the secret.

She reminded them of the rest of the student body, the necessity of solidifying Anna's position; which had taken a blow in the form of _**his**_ 'cheating' on the girl. Explaining the circumstances to the boy the gossip of the moment was revolving around **might** help them to regain the ground they'd lost. That, and it also might cheer him up to remind him that, scandal or not, he still retained power and influence among the students; even if he'd been abandoned by his so-called friends. Everyone agreed to her idea, _**he **_promised to do his best to talk the other boy into following the plan as the bell dispersed them to their remaining classes.

--xxx—

''Here goes.'' As much faith as he had in Taylor, he still couldn't help the twist of dread in his gut as he and Anna pulled into the Ward's driveway. The success of this whole thing hinged on his being able to convince his former rival that he hadn't spilled the beans about his old man. His knock was, therefore, somewhat tentative.

''Hey.'' The guy looked horrible, like he might cry at any minute. Utter silence from where the younger boys were sitting almost catatonic (the difference from their prior behavior unsettling) in front of the television gave the foyer an eerie feeling that was only emphasized by the pile of luggage near the door.

''Are you okay?'' Anna asked once they were inside, taking over the talking as he'd known (and likely Taylor had known) she would.

''Yeah.'' Guilt joined the fragile expression on the taller boy's face. ''Look, man, I owe you an apology. It wasn't you who said anything. My Dad …after ..……we saw him …..he ..he came out to my Mom ….and …..she wigged and called a few friends and then everyone in Newport knew.''

''It's okay.'' He and his 'girlfriend' spoke in unison, making the other's brow furrow slightly.

Just as the silence became awkward, Meredith came out, running up the stairs when she spotted them. She was closely followed by her husband (soon to be ex, he supposed) who tried to approach his son, who ran out the door. They caught up with the guy in the driveway, Ryan was glad he'd thought to take the precaution of blocking the truck in. So eager was the teen to escape his family's drama, he climbed into the Rover without even asking where they were going.

Per the plan, Anna was dropped to meet Taylor, while he drove his teammate to the batting cages. He remembered telling _**her**_ that the guy would want something to hit; something upon which to vent his confused anger. Going to a gym would only put them in the target area of the Newpsie's; so that left smacking the shit out of baseballs. The season was well over, so they had the place all to themselves. They shoved money into the pitching machines until the clerk started flickering the lights. Luke actually looked better, for a couple minutes; before following him around the buildings to the field and the dugout where Taylor had said to meet. Anna was sitting there with her, a six-pack of bottled beer on the bench between them. By the time they reached the girls, the other boy's face was once more drawn in depressed lines.

''Ryan.'' Surprising him, Taylor ran right up to him and threw her arms around him. Guess she was moving forward with that whole' we either trust him or we don't' thing. In any case, he wasn't about to try and deny _**her**_. She fit so well in his arms, felt so good cradled against his chest.

''I don't believe it.'' Shock loosened the taller boy's kneecaps, planting him on the bench next to Anna. ''Chino and Dor……..Townsend?''

''Believe it.'' The girl from Pittsburgh handed the guy a beer, passing one to Ryan when he joined them on the bench. He decided to pace his drinking, knowing that the other wouldn't be taking the same precautions. Not that he blamed him. With all that was going on, maybe getting plastered would make the guy feel better. Until the morning after, at least.

''My entire life has been one giant lie.'' It wasn't until after the third beer that Luke started to talk, sipping heavily from his fourth as he slowly paced. ''……..everything I thought I knew about my dad…………all those business trips he took?'' Taylor laid a hand on Anna's arm, keeping the other girl quiet. He knew it was part of the plan to let the guy talk himself out, he just hoped that it wouldn't get too maudlin. ''What about when he'd miss one of my games because he was 'working late'?'' Ryan sipped at his beer, still the first one he'd opened, leaning back with one arm around _**her**_ as he watched the other boy (he supposed he might be a friend, after this) lean against the chain link and stare unseeingly out at the darkened baseball field. ''I don't even know if this guy is the first one, or if there's been others…………I can't even think about it.''

''He lied to protect you.'' Luke whirled on Anna, who held her ground in the face of his narrowed gaze. ''He knew what would happen if he came out, he wanted to spare your family that pain. Now that the truth is out, you have to realize that there's one thing he's **never** lied about.'' She stood, rubbing her hands over her bare arms. ''He loves you.'' The boy she was focused on made a face, walking away to take a seat next to Ryan. ''I'm gonna grab my jacket. Taylor?''

''Sure.'' She pecked him on the cheek as she hurried off. He turned his head from watching her fantastic ass walk towards the parking lot to find the other boy staring at him.

''What?''

''I still can't wrap my head around it.'' The fourth bottle was set next to the other empties; but no move was made to open the fifth, to his relief. ''You and Taylor Townsend? How did **that** happen?''

''Remember TJ?'' Gape-mouthed, the guy eventually nodded, then shook his head in an apparent attempt to accept what he was being told.

''So, what's the deal with Anna, then?''

''She's gay.''

''I guess it's going around.'' It was a lousy joke, but it **was** a joke. Might have something to do with the amount of beer he'd sucked down, though; rather than any acceptance of his current situation. ''So, you're, what; her cover story? And Townsend's okay with that?''

''You've met Taylor's mom?'' Off the flinch: ''You think** Julie** had a problem with me spending time with Marissa…………'' Okay, that probably wasn't the best subject, either. It made the other boy smile for a split second, though.

''Veronica would roast you alive.'' For an instant, his tone was light and easy-going, a kid just hanging out. Then reality cast it's shadow once again over his face, drawing out a heavy sigh. ''Mom wants me to talk to **him**, but there's nothing he has to say that I want to hear.'' Silence reigned, drew taut. Seeing the way the lighter blue eyes were looking at the remaining beers, he figured it was now or never to put his own two cents in before the other was too drunk to remember.

''Anna's right. Even if he wasn't honest with you, he still cared. He did make it to some of your games''

''Whatever.'' Sourly, the guy reached for the last bottle of beer. ''What does it even matter?''

''It matters.'' He couldn't believe he was going to say this. To Luke, of all people. At least the guy wouldn't try and drown him in sympathy, like the Cohens, and Taylor already knew; so…….. ''Especially if you had a Dad who didn't make it to **any** of your games. Or know what sport you played. Or cared.'' Ryan knew, from the look on the other's face, that the reasoning behind his being taken in by Seth's family had never really occurred to him. ''Or even knew you existed, like Taylor's father.'' That still enraged him, that _**her**_ father had walked out of her life and didn't care if she lived or died; wouldn't recognize the girl if he passed her on the street.

Asshole wasn't a vile enough description for the guy.

Theresa's mom had spat out a good one once. How did it go?

Oh, yeah.

The vomitus spewing of an excrement-devouring long-extinct reptile which would eat its own mother without shame or serious second contemplation.

Son of a scabrous tarantula, he added internally; pleased with his recall, even though he knew Taylor wouldn't appreciate the description.

Seth, now……….

''Everything's just so screwed up.'' Luke was speaking of more than his own situation, he knew from the tone. He was about to comment on the newly-evident compassion, when a snide voice cut across their solitude.

''Isn't this romantic? A couple of Harbor butt-pirates.'' The insult was nothing new, he'd heard it from every team they'd faced so far. The lack of imagination in this town was appalling, to quote both his best friend and his lover. ''We interrupting your date?''

''There a problem? Aside from the fact we kick your ass every year?'' Ryan had a familiar tingle along his spine, across his knuckles. It was the same feeling he got when Trey started talking shit and got them into a fight; the same instinct that told him whether the crowd he'd just beaten (at pool or poker) would become violent. If it wasn't for his promise to Sandy, he'd've been all too happy to pound these two into the ground.

''No problem.'' Sneers were stamped on both faces, the taller one leaned in to deliver the last straw. ''Fag.''

On any other night, the insult might've been blown off. Any other night, there'd be sufficient girls around to keep anything from happening. Tonight, though………

These idiots had picked the wrong kid in the wrong place on the wrong night.

But the real mistake wasn't when they started shoving, or when they made further remarks about 'queers' and 'saving it for your boyfriend'.

It was when they brought up 'daddy'.

Not since the last time he'd thrown down with Trey on his side had he moved so in synch with another guy. Their punches landed simultaneously, knocking both of the Matadors to the ground. They barely had time to gloat, exchanging victorious glances, before the six other boys walked up. It was going, he could admit it, very badly; when the eight Matadors suddenly started pulling back, leaving them lying on the pitcher's mound.

''They **better** run.'' Luke groaned, rolling over onto his back. ''Who…….?''

''Taylor.'' Ryan pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, smiling at the girl kneeling next to him. ''You okay?''

''Peachy.'' Gentle fingers tilted his face further into the light. ''I haven't used my black belts so much in the years I've been training as I have in this past month. My sensei will be pleased.''

''She's got a black belt?'' Luke levered himself up onto his elbows, eyes wide and wondering. ''**Shit**, Chino.''

''She's got two, actually.'' Ryan smirked at the astonished look, letting her help him stand. He took a deep, experimental breath; relieved when there were no jabs or pinching to signify internal damage. ''How you doing?''

''Not so good.'' He could feel the tremor in the other's hand as he fought his way upright. No way was he in any shape to go home, but he also wasn't (thankfully) in bad enough shape to need a hospital.

Anna drove the Rover for him. He didn't trust the one beer in combination with the punches he'd taken behind the wheel. It was no surprise, to him, at least; that Seth immediately suggested putting Luke up in the guest room. His foster brother was the most compassionate and forgiving person he knew. The jock was in good hands with the Cohens; so he cleaned himself up and grabbed a snack. With food in him, he felt confident enough to insist on driving his 'girlfriend' home.

He just had no intention of going straight home from the Stern residence.

Taylor was waiting for word on tonight's final act at the ballpark, according to her text message. He would've been worried about their attackers returning, if she hadn't very reasonably pointed out that they weren't about to admit to having their asses kicked by (what they saw as) two queers and a _girl_, or return to the scene of said humiliation. When he pulled up, she was sitting on the hood of her Cadi, staring upwards at the stars.

''Hey.'' He hitched himself up to sit next to her, directing his own eyes up.

In Chino, there were too many dangers on the ground to risk star-gazing. Not that you could see anything through the smog, anyway. Here, though; the twinkling lights were bright and clear. He leaned back on his palms, content in the sparkling beauty above and beside him. She scooted over to sit closer, placing her right palm on the car hood behind his ass so that her entire right side was snug against his left. Instead of turning to take advantage of the situation, though, she raised her left hand and began tracing patterns in the night sky.

''The big dipper.'' Ryan's imagination painted the lines behind her finger, the illustrations in his science book making a lot more sense now. ''There's the north star, and the little dipper.'' He gave up on arching his neck, laying prone on the hood, her right arm shifting to curl into his ribcage, his hands behind his head. She laid back as well; still pointing out the constellations. ''When's your birthday?''

''March.'' He moved his left arm under her neck, supporting her head, his hand resting happily on the curve of her shoulder.

''Pisces. The fish.'' A pink-glossed nail directed his attention, tracing the pattern in the sky. ''Mine's in April. That's Ares, the ram.'' Again, a picture formed in his mind in response to the movements of her elegant finger. ''The Chinese zodiac is designated by the cycle of years instead of the rotation of the stars, like the western one. Either one is a fascinating study. Depending in which year or what stars are prominent when they're born, you can supposedly determine someone's personality, their skills, even their perfect romantic match.''

''Can't be too accurate, then.'' With his left arm around her shoulders, cushioning her head, he didn't have to look to know she was turning to stare at him. He could feel the movement of her head, the tickle of her hair on his skin. A tickle that traveled quickly below his waist, where it was no longer **just** a tickle. ''I mean, who could ever predict Summer and Seth?''

''Or us.'' **Now **he turned to look, the husky nature of her voice drawing his focus down out of the firmament. The stars had leant their light to her eyes, the hazel orbs shining at him, enhancing her already amazing beauty.

Ryan leaned that little distance forward, pressing his lips softly to hers, turning onto his side so that he could feel her eager little body burning along his front. The kiss became harder, the pressure of her form on his unbearable. Small hands were already pushing his shirt upward, tracking patterns of fire on his skin even as they'd traced lines of light above. The cloth was strangling him, he couldn't breath with it on. Thinking that she might be having the same problem, he reached for the hem of her blouse as soon as he'd discarded his tee.

''Just open it.'' It was hard to think with her hands wandering all over his torso, but he followed her instruction, trailing kisses over the flesh as it was revealed. Her skin warmed his mouth, the aroma of her arousal strong in the clear air. Once again, the bra was front-clasped, he suspected that she'd changed** all** of her upper-body lingerie to that pattern; it was the kind of practical measure she'd take. That, and wearing a skirt all the time. In fact, he only saw her in pants one week per month; not counting soccer games.

Moaning his way across her chest, he feathered his fingers up her thigh, pausing briefly to caress her ass before moving around to check the moist apex of her legs. She arched into him, gasping his name and tightening her grip on his shoulders. More than ready, then. Good thing, because skipping their lunch date that day had shrunk his jeans what felt like three sizes. Taylor was just as eager; her hands were already sliding under his boxers.

Wait, when had she undone his jeans?

And when had she retrieved the somewhat chilly latex she was even now rolling over him?

Not that it mattered. Once he entered her, he wouldn't be able to feel anything but her welcoming, molten silk; not even the restriction of a condom.

''Taylor.'' She arched up at his shaking groan, trying to take him deeper in. His face blocked out the stars as he rolled her over, expression both tender and savage as his shaft eased it's torturous way further into her body. ''Taylor.'' Heat engulfed her, she trembled as lightning sparks of pleasure crawled over every inch of skin.

''Oh God.'' She wanted to cry, she wanted to laugh, she wanted to scream her joy. The good, hard weight of him settled on top of her, inside her; their union complete. Ryan was resting most of it on his forearms and lower legs, granted; but his bare chest was a delightful pressure on the ache of her breasts and having him completely within her …….. ''Oh God,_** Ryan**_.''

''Yeah.'' He sounded distracted as he planted kisses all over her face, even dropping a pair of butterfly-soft ones on her eyelids. The act made her moan, touched by the somewhat romantic gesture. She supposed their location (the hood of a car – when had she joined the cast of Fast and Furious?) was straining his control, a theory made more certain by the way he twitched his hips into her and cursed when she stroked her fingers up his back. ''Fuck, _**Taylor**_.''

''You **are**.'' Ryan growled and muttered another profanity, starting to move in earnest, ending her sweet torture, just as she'd intended. Any amusement she felt over his obvious enjoyment (he was so predictable in his fantasies, she'd have to see about satisfying a few more) fled with a gasp as the ecstasy hit. ''Ryan!'' There was no reason to be quiet, this time, and she meant to take the opportunity to let him know just how much she was enjoying herself. Not that she didn't always, but something about the cool steel under her and his warm flesh over her (and moving in her) just intensified every sensation. ''Yes! Ryan!''

She couldn't brace her heels on the slope of the hood, but wrapping her legs (per usual) around his now swiftly pumping hips altered the angle just enough to spark her orgasm. Her brain whited out and she felt and saw nothing but him; smelled nothing but the tang of his sweat, tasted nothing but the warm tongue probing her mouth. They groaned together, utterly in synch with each other and the sensuality of the night. Taylor felt that even their pounding hearts drummed the beats in the same pattern, that the pleasure that rushed from one to the other and swept them both away was like the surge and retreat of the tides.

When her climax clenched his from him, her focus narrowed so tightly that, for those eternal moments; he was literally her entire world.

--xxx—

''He's late.'' Summer frowned, tapping one Manolo-clad foot impatiently.

''Maybe he changed his mind about hanging with us.'' Seth shoved both hands into his pockets, shrugging at the dark glare he got from his girlfriend with blatantly false nonchalance. ''Luke's already being dragged down into the gossip pool, maybe he figured he'd take his chances on his own.''

''He needs us.'' Anna declared, looking worried. ''He needs every friend he can get.''

The group was assembled in the parking lot, where the boy under discussion had said he'd meet them. After the fight at the ballpark, it seemed that he and Ryan were ready to be friends. Nothing bound two guys together like a fight, she supposed. At least this time, they'd been on the same side of it. The looks on the Matador's faces when they realized they'd either have to retreat, or hit a **girl** had been amusing. She wished she'd thought to take a picture (he'd been whining about not being able to see her 'in action'), but, at the time; she'd been too relieved that they'd run off, that she wouldn't have to try and keep _**him**_ from killing them if they'd struck her.

''There he is.'' Taylor didn't point, Luke would be on the receiving end of enough attention today that the gesture wouldn't be well received.

''Hey.'' If the taller boy was surprised to see them all waiting to welcome him, he didn't show it. The lighter blue eyes flicked between Ryan and Anna, standing hand-in-hand, and over to where she was standing on the other side of Seth and Summer, who were also holding hands. The positions they were standing in apparently surprised him, until the secrets he'd learned last night were recalled, anyway. ''Thanks for meeting me.''

''Hope you're ready for this.'' Taylor said warningly, brushing bangs out of her eyes with casual grace. Anna kicked **him** on the ankle, making him loosen the apparently just-tightened grip on the girl's hand. She hoped he could hold it together until after school. Now that her mother was once again out of town, and his license was restored; they could** really** indulge their need for each other. ''You know the rumor mill's going to pair us up.'' She motioned between the herself and the jock, pretending she didn't see the (beyond ridiculous) surge of jealousy that flared across_** his**_ face.

''Two singles hanging with two couples? Yeah, I kinda saw it coming.'' Luke didn't sound excited. In fact, he sounded reluctant and irritated. ''What if Marissa……?''

''When she gets back, the rumor mill will say that we 'broke up'.'' She kept her tone matter-of-fact, wanting more than anything to convey her certainty that the Cooper girl would be returning to them. However resentful she'd been of the other in the past, she wasn't petty enough to deny Summer and Luke their reunion. And if Marissa hadn't changed all that much,** she'd** still have Ryan. **That** beat being popular or having social chair **any** day. ''Just make sure you keep her updated in your letters, let her know what's** really** going on. She's smart enough….'' She doubted it, but this wasn't the time or place. ''… to know the truth when she hears it.'' He was still looking doubtful, and she didn't want to have him reject the much-needed support structure of their group just so his former girlfriend wouldn't (unjustifiably) freak out. How to…..? She had it. ''It's not like she'll believe you could **ever** be interested in 'Dorksend', anyway.''

''Thanks.'' He smiled, a sad little twist of his mouth, but it was the first time he'd even tried to smile since the news of his father's proclivities had broken. ''Thanks for saying 'when' she gets back.''

''Coop is tough, she'll make it through.''

''And we'll have to do this same scene with her.'' Seth inclined his head to indicate their observers, someone's laughter already audible. ''All they'll be interested in is that she od'd in TJ. Her going to rehab won't even impact on their tiny little minds.''

''Shit.'' Luke eyed the crowd with obvious trepidation, his gaze started to search out exit points. ''All things considered, waiting until this all blows over sound like a better plan; no offense.'' She was about to assure the boy that they took no offense over his preferring a low profile to hanging out with them when _**he**_ spoke up.

''It's been months, and I'm still the kid from Chino who steals cars and burns down houses.'' Everyone nodded, she doubted the Harbor elite was **ever** going to let **that** one go.

'"And I'm still Taylor _Dorksend_, who either slept with or beat up Nordlund; depending on your sources.'' This time, the smiles were wider, the memory of Kyle cowering at her feet sucking all the painful force out of her old nickname.

''I'm that weird girl from Pittsburgh.''

''I'm dating Seth Cohen.''

''I** am** Seth Cohen.'' An actual grin was hovering over their new friend's expression, joined by sympathy as the scrawnier boy dropped his skateboard to the pavement and stepped onto it. ''Welcome to my world.''

They all trailed after the boy coasting his way through the crowd, ignoring as best they could the stares and whispers. Taylor supposed that the song was right, amazed at the unexpected wisdom to be found in popular culture.

You get by with a little help from your friends.


	7. holiday

**A/N: **Okay, ever since Avecia's 'Halloween' (go read it, it's great), I've been wanting to do a Halloween story of my own. So here it is, in no way intending to compete with my friend Vex.

Also, forgot to say last chapter; but I stole shamelessly all throughout it. Please don't sue!

Thanks to Krisz on this one for locale suggestions.

--xxx--

''A costume party is **so** grade school.'' Brenda complained, slumping into her seat.

''It's not a costume party, it's a masked ball.'' Taylor didn't have to pretend that she had a headache. Pressing her fingers to her temple, wishing social mores didn't restrict her from strangling the ditz; she closed her eyes in a pain that was more mental than physical.

Ever since Luke had started hanging out with their group, social committee had been hell. The idea that she was taking advantage of the opportunity of Marissa's absence to make a play for the once-popular boy was firmly entrenched in their rather empty heads. Nothing she could say would shake it loose, every protest only seemed to make them more convinced she was after the captain of the soccer team. The only upside to the situation was that the rest of the school's rumor mill was equally convinced, and the resulting damage her reputation would take when the Cooper girl returned and 'took back' her boyfriend would finalize The Plan.

Who'd have ever thought she'd be so eager to have her (former) chief tormenter back that she was seriously considering going for a visit during winter break to try and speed the girl's recovery process?

''I think it's neat.'' Summer chimed in. If there was **one** person who supported her through this whole mess (publically as well as privately) it was this girl. Any fears she'd had about being discarded when the brunette found a common ground with Anna (or when 'Coop' returned) had faded in the massive amount of similarities between them.

They were both petite. They were both 'non-blonde'. They both loved fashion, and French culture (she was now tutoring Summer as well as Ryan, though in a far different manner) and jazz. That had been a surprise, that the wildly popular little dynamo had a liking for jazz. Seth had been ecstatic, pulling out his father's old albums and driving the other three members of their group out to the pool house (to play video games) in an attempt to avoid the impromptu music-fest.

They were both intelligent, both determined to wait sex (too late, in her case) for the 'right guy'. She was sworn to secrecy on that one; but it was a thrilling confidence, nonetheless; because not even _Marissa_ was aware of the status of Summer's virginity. A singular mark of trust and friendship, just like the teasing she'd taken for choosing Ryan as her 'right guy'. Having the brunette observe (a trifle wistfully) that she hoped that she and Seth would end up as 'meant to be' as her and Ryan was one of the best moments of her entire life.

They were both dating, if you counted foster as family, a Cohen boy and, if you **dis**counted stoned-out step-monsters; they were both the product of a single-parent household were the single parent was often absent. Therefore, they were both self-sufficient and determinedly capable.

''Well, I don't think that you dressing up like someone else is gonna make Luke forget you're a** loser**, Townsend.'' Sheila's catty remark pulled her from her pleasant ruminations. She kept her face calm and serene, despite how much she wanted to snarl and scowl. It wasn't a desire for _Luke's_ company that had inspired this particular plan, but that wasn't an argument that held any weight with **this** group.

''I'm not even going to be there.'' Outrage and irritation traveled the faces (save one) before her. She didn't know why they were upset; it wasn't like they wanted her around, anyway. ''I volunteer every year down at the youth center.'' This had the benefit of being true. It was more fun to spend time with surly sugar-crazed children than to be all alone. This year, though, she had no intention of being either alone or a non-paid baby-sitter.

''So why should **we** have to go through with this if **you're** not even going to show?'' Casey whined, twirling a strand of platinum around one finger.

''Because none of you can think of anything better to do.'' Summer snapped, having apparently reached the end of her patience. At least she wasn't verbally attacking them, this time. Soothing the ruffled feathers of the rest of the committee after the last time her friend had lost her temper was an exercise in psychological manipulation she **never** wanted to repeat.

''**Are** there any other ideas?'' Taylor kept her voice light, tone upbeat and injected a little (false) hopeful expectation into her words. Even her stance gave the impression that she was praying for one of them to come up with something else. One by one, thankfully; they all shook their heads, dropping their gaze to their hands or directing it out the window. Before they could start complaining again, she swiftly handed out the assignments; dividing the work so that no one was overwhelmed.

''Buncha bimbos.'' Her friend had at least waited until the room was clear before delivering her complaint; that was a marked improvement from the muttered exchange of insults she'd had to pretend not to hear during the last three meetings. ''You know they'd be lost without you, right? We'd be having parties with decorations handed down from the ice age and themes like 'pimps and hos'.''

''How nice that I like doing this job, then.'' It wasn't a lie, she did like throwing these parties, mostly for the unexpected side-benefits. One overheard remark about how the (mostly ungrateful) student body had enjoyed _this_ function or how_ that_ dance had been fun was enough to counter **months** of harassment. Having their peers take her for granted, though, didn't seem to be what was behind her friend's displeasure this time. ''Still struggling with a costume idea?'' The heavy sigh was all the answer she needed, but the brunette obviously felt the urge to elaborate.

''He keeps suggesting these skanky comic book outfits.'' Wrinkling her nose, Summer fell into step with her as they exited the meeting room. ''That, or lame-a……lame-as-heck space-geek stuff. I don't want to end up in a leather bikini just because Cohen thinks it's hot.''

''So don't.'' Taylor turned to face her frowning companion. ''Summer, you could go as Slappy the Clown: frizzed hair, big shoes, and all; and Seth would still find you the most fascinating, gorgeous girl there. You could suggest that the two of you go as flamingo dancers, and he'd fall all over himself to climb into that frilly shirt.'' This was nothing but true. Seth would do absolutely _**anything**_ to keep Summer's affection. Perhaps the insecurity on the other girl's part was a result of the lack of motherly attention. Yet another point of similarity, she supposed

''He'd look ridiculous.'' Maybe she'd misconstrued the girl's concern. Maybe all this stress was over finding a costume that would look good on _Seth_, not what the other girl was willing to wear. ''He always looks so………''

''So you're worried he'll embarrass you.'' Shame filled the tanned face, but she didn't think it was that bad a thing. After all, Summer's reputation for being well-groomed was a large part of the respect that the girl used to keep her boyfriend safe. It wouldn't do to allow that reputation (and it's positive effects) to diminish. ''He looked good at Cotillion, right?'' She wasn't sure, herself. Once her eyes had landed on_** him**_, it'd been hard to pay any real attention to anyone else in the room. A distraction her partner's toes had paid a heavy price for. ''He cleans up nice, right?''

''Something classic or old fashioned…….'' Fire lit the brown depths, lightening the mood. ''I've got it!'' The girl rushed off, waving absently as she took her leave. ''Thanks, Taylor!''

Her own ideas for a costume had been easy, she fought down a giggle at the memory of the look on Ryan's face when she told him what she wanted him to go as. Of course, he'd been a lot more willing after she'd **shown** him his costume. Or maybe he'd been so mellow and agreeable because she'd given him a blowjob. It was truly something of a paradox, when she thought about it. Performing fellatio on him always made him **very** relaxed, but it also ended up with him becoming wildly aggressive, sexually speaking. Her knees were still a little wobbly from remembering his forceful thrusts, the insistent nature of his kisses.

''Taylor!'' Anna waved her over to the bleachers, where she and Seth were parked with their homework piled around them. Ryan's books were a neat little stack near his brother's scattered materials, their owner running across the grass with his teammates to the cheers of the bobble-heads sitting at the other end of the field.

''Greetings, programs.'' It was an old reference, but one she knew her friends would get. As much as she loved her relationship with Summer, sometimes she needed to indulge her inner geek.

''Where's Summer?'' Seth craned his head, as if he just didn't have the right angle to spot his girlfriend's approach.

''She finally decided on a costume for you two.'' She shook her head at his hopefully concerned look. ''She didn't say what it was, sorry.'' When he opened his mouth, brown eyes dancing, she shook her head again. ''And I'm not saying what mine is either, so tell Ryan he'll just have to be patient.''

''You should totally go as Jean Grey.'' Taylor raised an eyebrow in response, curious as to what aspect of the Marvel heroine he thought she emulated. ''She's a mind-reader too.'' Well, that wasn't very flattering. At least he hadn't said Moon Dragon, the bald one. ''And she's hot.''

''Seth!'' That was sweet, him throwing that in to make her feel better. She knew there was no way he was expressing his own opinion, not with as gone as he was over Summer. Which meant it was a compliment from **Ryan**.

She sat down, dizzy with the flush of warmth surging through her.

''He's got a point.'' Anna remarked, grey eyes checking the perimeter for eavesdroppers before roaming over her body. Not even that slightly creepy regard could disperse the warm feeling of knowing _**he**_ found her attractive enough to comment on it to his brother.

''Anna!'' This protest was a hoarse whisper, but she still managed to giggle. She didn't think the girl was developing a crush, and the next comment confirmed that; making her glad she'd never mentioned the somewhat egotistical theory.

''Too bad I won't be there to see what you're wearing. I've got a date.''

''Are you nuts?'' Seth started whispering as well, frowning in frantic concern. ''What about Ryan?''

''What about him?'' A disinterested shrug as the other girl turned her attention back to her book. ''We're not really a couple, remember?''

''That's not what I meant.'' The boy waved his hand over their friend's book until she looked up. ''He's very protective of his friends. Has he met this …….person? Are they dangerous? Do you have a back-up plan? Cab fare? Do you need pepper spray? A taser, maybe?''

''You're kidding me.'' Anna shot her a disbelieving look, but she had to nod in agreement with Seth's opinion. ''Well, great.''

''It's not so bad.'' Taylor whispered, glancing out to the field, where the team (including the subject of their discussion) was gathered around the coach. Looked like practice was over for the day. ''His people instincts are **very** good. Introduce him to your friend and that'll be the end of it.'' Two of the team detached from the rest, headed over their way, heads gleaming golden in the sun. ''Think of it this way: if you ever need someone to come pick you up from South Central at three in the morning; now you have a friend who'll not only** do** that, but he could actually get you out of there** alive**.''

''Out of where alive?'' Luke asked when they arrived, rubbing a towel over his face.

''No place.'' Anna narrowed her gaze with obvious speculation at the shorter boy, who frowned at her, brushing at his jersey like he thought the blonde girl had spotted a stain. Not finding one, he frowned at his 'girlfriend'.

''What?''

''You remember Alex?''

''Alex.'' Ryan tilted his head, Taylor recognized his expression as one of deep thought. After a few seconds, he nodded; wiping at his face with his own towel. ''Sure. Bartender at the Bait Shop, right?''

''She's the manager, actually.'' She detected a note of anxiety in the girl's voice and smiled reassuringly. She remembered the young lady (she couldn't be more than twenty-two) in question. Tattoos, purple hair, questionable fashion sense; but all in all, a nice person. ''She's invited me to the Rocky.'' Deep breath. ''As her date.''

''Rocky.'' To say that he was confused would be putting it mildly. Taylor shook her head at his glance, not knowing what this was about either.

''I think that's some kind of theater thing for gays.'' Seth put in, brow furrowed as well. ''They have a big party called that in New York, but Dad wouldn't tell me any more than that.''

''I could ask **my** Dad, but I don't **want** to know if he knows about it.'' Luke's attempt to lighten the mood fell flat, Seth wasn't the only one to roll his eyes.

''Sounds like fun.'' Ryan grinned, nodding towards his 'girlfriend'. ''Have a good time.'' He started off towards the school's locker room, then turned back to them. ''You have my number, right?''

''Yes, _Dad_.'' Taylor could've told the girl that sarcasm wasn't going to deter his protectiveness. Sure enough, his blue eyes held the other's grey gaze firmly until she sighed, and answered him again; seriously this time. ''Yes, I have your number. To_ both_ phones**. And** I promise to call if there's any trouble.''

''Good.'' One of his brilliant smiles flared across his lips, blinding her (if no one else) for a few seconds. ''Hope it works out.''

''Me too.'' Anna murmured, her expression glazing over as she played with her pen. Seth's face was vacant as well, staring at the blonde girl; most likely indulging in the usual teenaged boy fantasy of two girls making out. Taylor poked him with her finger, giving him her most severely disapproving glare. Properly ashamed, he refocused his attention on gathering his and Ryan's books. As it should be, she thought. She knew that a boy's mind wandered into that subject more often than not, but there was no reason he had to do it in front of their lesbian friend.

That was just **rude**.

''I guess this means you'll be dumping _**him**_ fairly soon.'' The grey eyes were blank, understanding struggling through the haze of the girl's daydreams. She knew how that went. It was the odd day when she didn't lose a minute or two every hour to thinking about _**him**_ and his…….. Stop it, she chided internally, pulling her attention back to the conversation. Mind in reality. **Present** reality, darn it! The last thing she needed was to start remembering some of their more heated encounters and then her mouth would fall open and………

''We haven't even gone on our first date yet.'' The girl from Pittsburgh was protesting, blushing slightly. She was grateful for the distraction of someone else's personal life. Her own was far too dangerously intoxicating to think about. In public, anyway. ''I think you may be putting the cart before the horse there.''

''I want to know how** she's** going to be_ his _date to the dance with the whole school watching.'' Seth grinned, adjusting the strap of his bag as he stood, arms full of his brother's books. ''It may be a masked ball but, strange as this is for me to say; not **every** student at this school is an idiot.'' The girls stood, following him towards the parking lot where they were meeting the rest of their group. She hoped Summer would be there. She didn't want to listen to Seth's panicked rambling when he didn't get to carry the brunette's books home.

''Ah, but the ones who **aren't** are on my side.'' Taylor declared, confident that she had every possibility figured out. There was no game that Saturday, their opponents having canceled due to a particularly nasty flu bug making it's way through their school. Of course, the rumor mill had automatically gone to work and the top two theories were either that the 'flu' was actually a wide-spread case of mono or that the soccer team was a bunch of cowards who'd rather forfeit than face the Pirates. ''I dropped some hints during committee about not going. With the way gossip at this place operates, my absence will be set in stone by the end of the day. So long as I keep my mask on, they could spend the night right **next** to me and** still** think I was someone else.'' She had other measures in place, as well; but there was no need to reveal every little detail.

''True enough.'' He chewed his lip, sighing heavily. ''You know, if we knew what your costume was, we could help………'' She laughed out loud.

''I told Ryan last night: it's a surprise.'' Poor Seth. She hoped he wouldn't start sulking because he couldn't uncover this information for his brother. She almost felt sorry enough to drop a few hints, before she came to her senses. Seeing the look on_** his**_ face when she walked up in her outfit was going to be worth more than the brief pangs of disappointment her friend was suffering. ''I will say this: **no one** outside our group will _**ever**_ believe it's me.''

--xxx—

Being a Friday night, they had more time than usual to enjoy themselves. They'd managed to spend a** little** time on their homework before surrendering to their hormones, after which they'd decided to take another stab at the French. His pronunciation was atrocious (her ears didn't bleed, quite) but he _**was**_ learning. It was just a tad surreal, laying there naked on her back with his head (his body as lazily bare as hers) resting just under her breasts, his face directed, like hers, towards the ceiling. Her fingers ran slowly and tenderly through his hair, his palms smoothing over her lower legs entwined loosely around his waist.

''_Vous avez de beaux cheveux _.'' Taylor murmured, letting the golden strands slide over her knuckles.

''_Vous avez de beaux cheveux _.'' She flinched internally, but he'd gotten close enough that the words couldn't be misconstrued to be anything else. ''Uhm…….You have beautiful hair?''

''_Certainmonte. Et merci_.''

''_Vous etes beinvenu_.'' She sighed. At least he was understanding the words, she mused, that's something. It's just his pronunciation……. Ah, well. No one's perfect, not even_** him**_. One foot twitched and she felt his chuckle, could imagine his wicked, wicked smile.

''Ticklish?'' Ryan's fingers traveled with mischievous purpose and she opened her legs to try and keep her feet out of range.

''Don't you dare.'' She warned, giggling when she didn't move fast enough to prevent his finding one of her vulnerable spots. ''And we're supposed to be speaking French.'' He found another point of weakness and she knew she'd have to very clever, very fast, to avoid falling prey to his teasing fingers. She shifted quickly upwards, wrapping her legs around his chest, pinning his upper arms to his sides. ''_Laissez-moi partir_.'' He probably wouldn't get it. As much trouble as he was having with his accent, it was** nothing** compared to the struggle he was going through regarding verb forms.

''Uhm……..'' He stopped trying to tickle her, finally shaking his head upon her stomach. ''_Je ne comprends pa_.''

''_C'est trop mauvais_.'' She feathered her fingers along his neck teasingly, laughing when he cursed at the ticklish sensation. ''Ryan, you** know** that's not actually French.''

''Don't care.'' He turned his head swiftly and caught one of her thumbs gently between his lips, sucking the digit into his mouth. She moaned, surprised at the sensuality. She shouldn't have been. She knew for a** fact** that he could send her into orbit with one of his smoldering looks, ducked-head smiles, or even just a softly-spoken word. **Touching** her only intensified it. What he could do with his _mouth_……. She whimpered, her limbs going slack.

Ryan rolled over in the loosened circle of her legs, planting his first kiss with determination just above her belly button. The others were trailed up to her neck, his body settling onto her, most of the weight supported by his forearms. His teeth pulled gently on her earlobe, arcing her upwards, jolting her out of her dizzy haze of desire and into the sharply-focused arena of her extremely healthy libido. She moved her palms from where they were pressing against his shoulder blades around to his chest. Untangling her legs, she pushed him away, humming with pleasure at how well he understood her when he didn't stand; just rolled over onto his back.

''Let's see if we can't inspire you.'' Taylor whispered just millimeters from his mouth, taking a grip on his wrists and pulling his hands slowly, deliberately, above his head. Briefly, he stiffened, blue eyes wide, and she loosened her grasp; ready to release him rather than take their intimacies somewhere he wasn't willing to go.

''No cuffs.'' He mumbled, gaze trusting, a weak smile trying to struggle free of his nervousness. She changed her mind instantly, reading the signals he was sending beneath his words. It wasn't like she'd never have another chance, after all.

''I'll remember that.'' She kissed him with as much reassurance as passion, smoothing her hands down his magnificent arms to ghost over his shoulders, cupping his face in gentle hands. ''_Je suis desole_.''

''_De nada_.'' Well, it wasn't French, but he'd at least understood what she was trying to say. His arms embraced her tenderly, pulling her down on top of him to cradle her body against his. Her head dropped down to cool her heated cheek on his firm shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, until he shifted beneath her and she felt the fiery brand she's been ignoring pulse with sudden urgency on the bundle of nerves that instantly became the center of all her attention. '_'Aves-vous le sexe avec moi_?''

Didn't it just** figure** that, out of all the words and phrases he was learning, it was** that** one he pronounced with perfect distinction and a slight Louisiana accent?

''Yes, please.'' She gasped, sitting up and straddling him so he could have access to her breasts. Of course, this movement pressed her clit more firmly onto his shaft and they both groaned. Grabbing the condoms quickly from the nightstand, she was lowering herself onto his latex-covered length with trembling ecstasy in what felt like the very next second.

Riding him with his hands wandering from her chest down her sides to pull insistently at her hips; she wondered why she even wanted to **try** the bondage thing. His touch was wonderful, amazing, something she could never imagine going without. He seemed just as appreciative of her caresses, just as intoxicated by the sensation of hands traveling over skin. Feeling the familiar digits threading into her hair, she leaned forward and returned his hungry kiss, fingers clutching at his shoulders as the climax began to build to completion in them both.

Next time she wanted to experiment, the tiny part of her that could still think decided; she'd talk it over with _**him**_ first. That way, there wouldn't be any misunderstandings, uncomfortable moments, or relationship-damaging activities.

Problem solved, she gave herself over entirely to _le petite morte_.

--xxx--

''Can you believe Luke was going to come as a Nazi? Said he wanted to be scary.'' Ryan snorted in agreement with the disgust evident in his brother's voice, putting the final touches on his costume in the bathroom. ''I told him he wasn't evil enough to pull it off, past misdeeds aside. I honestly think he hadn't realized I was Jewish until that precise moment.'' There was a rustle of fabric, he shook his head at the other boy's total inability to keep still. ''He grovels pretty well. I'm not ashamed to say that I enjoyed it.''

''So what's he coming as now?'' He called through the door, shaking water from his just-washed hands and drying them on a towel. Checking his reflection, he decided that there really wasn't anything more to be done.

''Don't know. Summer said she'd help him, by which I hope she meant pick something out, not…….'' Seth's voice trailed off and the two boys stood and stared at each other, taking in the outfits their ladies had chosen for them.

Seth looked surprisingly athletic in his knightly finery. The dark brown leather boots had pine green pants tucked tightly into them where the cuffs turned over (just under the knees), the lighter brown leather jerkin (it was amazing, the vocabulary he'd picked up from watching Lord of the Rings with his friends) with it's tan laces open at the throat, over the pale green, collared tunic. A pine green cloak was clasped on the left with a feather-shaped silver brooch and the dark brown belt around his waist even had a sword (that Ryan was hoping for his brother's sake was plastic) and scabbard hanging from it. The pine green mask came to a point atop the other boy's nose, slanting up at a severely obtuse angle to disappear into the dark curls just over his ears. The whole thing made Ryan glad that _**she**_ had chosen a more modern twist for his classic costume.

Ryan was going as an angel.

A departure from what his personal history implied, he'd protested; to which _**she'd**_ responded that **that **was the point entirely. She'd gone on to state that if he was hit by lightning for offending a higher power, he had her permission to lay the blame at her doorstep.

Yeah, fat lot of good **that** was going to do him; but since he **really** wanted to see what _**she**_ was going to wear, he didn't have any choice. All she'd told him was that he was going to absolutely **love** it.

''Nice.'' Seth sounded envious, and he couldn't help the smirk as he straightened the cuffs of his white tux. Taylor had decked him **entirely** in white, from his boxers out (including his shoes); so the overall effect of his tailed and pleated attire was a little blinding. He started pulling the gloves on, wishing he was a better liar so he could claim that he'd lost them. He hated the things, wished there was another way to get a peek at _**her **_outfit. He had his suspicions as to what it was, but she'd surprised him before. ''What's with your hair?'' Ryan was glad his mask (the plastic face of a cherub that covered his expression from hairline to either side of his mouth) concealed the blush that surged over his features.

''It was _**her**_ idea.'' The hair gel hadn't smelled** bad**, precisely; it was more the grit of the glitter that was annoying him. It worked, though. When he'd checked in the bathroom mirror, his hair had pretty much _glowed_ a golden blonde, sparkling in the fluorescent light. He didn't mind. Whatever kept him from having to wear a halo or some other lame-ass prop on his head. She'd given him a special shampoo to wash it out with, so he really didn't give a shit what anyone was going to say about it.

''Well, it's very Christian of you.'' His brother clapped him on the back as they headed towards the door. ''Just don't expect a lot of people to get it.''

''I don't get it.''

Ryan tried not to sigh too loudly at the girl's complaint and dropped his gaze to his punch. It was looking more and more like his friend's words were becoming prophetic. Even the teacher who was writing down everyone's costumes (but not names, that would come at the great unmasking, at midnight) hadn't understood his costume. Not that the lack of understanding was keeping any of these girls from hitting on him. Far from it. Most of them seemed to consider the wearing of masks permission to ditch what few inhibitions they had left. Some of the costumes they were wearing would be more appropriate to the set of a porn flick than a high school. Three girls (wearing what Seth had called jewelry with attitude) had been turned away at the door, sent home to change.

''Beat it, skank.'' Even if he hadn't recognized her by her snapping black eyes, that attitude had Summer written all over it. That, and with 'Sir Seth' hovering around her, there just wasn't anyone else she **could** be. ''Hey, Chino.''

''Roberts.''

He had to admit, she was pretty hot in the pine-green dress with the flared sleeves and silver trim. The pale grey leather belt around her tiny waist made a 'v' just off-center, the extra length of belt hanging straight down the side of one leg. Silver jewelry glinted here and there, the most notable being the unicorn pendant around her neck; trotting eternally over the cleavage (he glanced once and looked away, not being insane) revealed by the low cut of her dress. The silver circlet with the misty-green veil hanging down from it was a nice touch, much nicer than some of the attempted princess outfits he'd seen. One girl was actually wearing that stupid pointy-hat thing, with the filmy scarf at the top. Another had her hair worked into so many whorls and knots that he'd bet it would be easier for her to shave her head than to try and untangle the mess it was going to end up. Summer had been more practical, gathering her curls into the silver net depending from the back of her circlet, leaving only her bangs to hang over the veil and two wispy strands to outline her face.

''You look pretty sharp there, Chino.''

He shared a knuckle-tap with Luke, running an evaluating gaze over the other's costume and wondering if Summer was trying to make Seth jealous, or if she'd just decided to stick with the medieval theme she had working. The taller blonde was wearing a white, collared shirt cut like Seth's, with a maroon surcoat (no one in Chino could ever find out he knew what that was) with the Harbor school seal on it that hit the other boy mid-thigh. A gold chain went from shoulder to shoulder along his collarbone, holding the maroon cape in place with two gold clasps shaped like globes. No, he saw with amusement; like soccer balls. Cute. The pants were a pale tan (probably meant to imply gold) bloused into brown leather knee-high boots (with no cuffs) so dark they were nearly black. A matching belt pinched the surcoat at the waist, a great sword (pot tin probably, like Seth's) hanging from the left side. A golden crown that looked almost exactly like Aragon's (only entirely gold-colored) completed the look, the team captain having apparently decided to forgo a mask.

''We all do.'' Ryan responded, turning the compliment around on the others. He felt a little out of place, standing there in his modern interpretation with their anachronistic outfits drawing attention and envious comments. Summer dragged Seth off to the dance floor, leaving the two blonde boys to find a wall to put their backs to.

''Spot her yet?'' Luke's voice was quiet, his gaze roving the crowd, settling on a trio of their teammates. ''Hey, check it.'' He glanced over and saw three guys wearing the same Zorro outfit, with very little individual touches. He snickered, shaking his head. Turning away, he spotted another amusing sight and pointed it out to his friend. ''I think that's Jess and Holly.'' They both squinted over to where two blonde girls were arguing, the genie outfits they were both wearing an eye-smarting pink. ''Think we'll be lucky enough to get a cat-fight out of ……..'' It sounded like the guy had swallowed his tongue, and Ryan spared him a concerned glance before trying to find what sight had caused such a reaction.

Red.

His brain wasn't processing much, but he knew there was red.

Red toenails, red shoes.

Coming slowly, sensuously, his way.

The shoes were on dainty feet, connected to the red nails; a red circle around the center toe. A red circle that was linked (somehow) to the red paint traveling from the arrow-shape pointing at the tiny toes all the way up luscious legs, past delectably curving hips, across a taught stomach, to finally cup an exquisite pair of breasts. Having reached such wonderful heights, the paint (PVC his brain tried to tell him, not paint) made a dip in the center of that beautiful chest, arcing straight across to the arms (making another triangle-shaped dip just below the curve of each shoulder) before flowing back down along **those** graceful limbs to end in arrows pointing to the red circle around each middle finger. There was a thin leather collar around her neck, a tiny red metal pitchfork hanging from the ring in the front of it. He swallowed hard, unable to move more than his eyes as she came ever closer, gliding seductively across the floor.

Her locks were the same blood-red as her outfit, something he suspected was as chemically induced as his own hairstyle. Now that she was closer, he could see the tail hanging off the back of her outfit, twitching to and fro with it's pointed, triangle tip curved slightly upwards. The red mask came to two points that nearly met at her chin, curving backwards along her jaw to widen until they formed a point under each cheekbone (directly under each pupil) before arcing back down to meet in a sharp point just over her nose. The top of the mask disappeared into her deliberately mussed hair (she looked like she'd just been fucked, a style reminiscent of 80's video vixens) before re-appearing as two small devil's horns that seemed to rise through the artfully disheveled strands from her temples to curve in towards each other. She stopped right in front of him, right in arm's reach, and gazed at him with burning hazel eyes. Her skin seemed to glow with a sultry red light, the sparkle of glitter obvious on her silken flesh.

He couldn't speak, was trying desperately just to breathe.

One thing was for sure: no way** any** of the mass of morons attending Harbor was going to** ever** believe that this demonically attractive vision was _**Taylor Townsend.**_

''Hello, Milton.''

There was a buzz to his right, part of him heard Luke's fervent compliment delivered with the query as to who 'Milton' was. The rest of him was involved in controlling his reaction to_** her **_voice, because grabbing her and trying to get that PVC suit off in the middle of the school's ballroom would probably get them arrested; and he'd spent enough time in Juvie to last him the rest of his life. Ryan concentrated on **what** she'd said, rather than the husky, bedroom voice she'd said it in, and was finally able to speak. Only one word, though; because he **knew** if he tried more than one syllable, he wouldn't be able to keep it all in the same octave.

''Faust.'' A smile graced her features, rewarding him for his cleverness and making him think that they needed to switch outfits. She was nothing if not an angel, and he felt devilish enough to ravish her right there in front of Luke and everybody.

''Care to dance?'' Taylor was using the light French accent she adopted when she wanted to seriously tease the shit out of him, the one that turned her voice into a controlled substance. He knew she was just trying to protect her anonymity, but the fire racing through his veins was urging him to drag her into their closet and have his way with her.

''In the pale moonlight? I'll risk it.'' She wasn't the only one who could use their voice as a method of sexual torture. He had the satisfaction of seeing her shudder in reaction, the tone one he **usually** saved for when she was naked and writhing. Just as he was starting to think that he'd be able to get the upper hand, she cheated.

Without saying a word, she turned around in one smooth motion, walking towards the dance floor. His gaze dropped, becoming fixed on the hypnotic swish of the tail back and forth over her fucktastic ass. All thought of how unfair her sultry power over him was, how he wasn't going to last more than half an hour if she kept this up; all of that vanished from his mind when she stopped a few feet away and turned her head to stare smokily over her shoulder at him.

He followed after her like she'd tugged on a leash.

--xxx—

Their mutual control was stronger than he'd thought; stronger than he would** ever** have believed.

They danced and drank punch and refrained from stripping each other's clothes off for a whole **hour**, not counting those first few moments when her presence had impacted on his senses (and his hormones) like he hadn't been laid in years, instead of just under twenty-four hours.

Of course, the longer they spent in each other's company, the longer they swayed back and forth in each other's arms; the more difficult it became to resist their baser urges. They started dancing closer and closer, the chaperones had to speak sharply to them _four times_ for not leaving enough space between their bodies. Hell, he didn't want to leave room for **molecules** between her luscious curves and his skin; let alone any 'space'. And that was just as it should be, chaperones (and everyone else) be damned. In his arms was where she **belonged**, and he was getting fucking sick and tired of the people (Veronica, fellow students, school officials) getting in the way of it. She must've been just as exasperated, because **she** was the one who suggested leaving the dance two hours before the unmasking instead of the previously agreed-upon fifteen minutes.

After all that self-control, it was really no surprise that he lost any semblance of propriety upon reaching her vehicle.

Taylor had rented a red Mustang convertible in order to muddy the waters of her identity even further. A consideration he didn't really notice, being too involved in the feel of her lithe little body pinned between him and the side of the car. The sight of her sparkling eyes, smell of her sweet skin, taste of her honeyed mouth, sound of her soft moans, feel of her hands in his hair; **this** was the entirety of his universe.

''Wait.'' Ryan stilled his fingers on the concealed zipper along her spine, lifted his mouth from the smooth heaven of her neck. Her hazel eyes were canted sideways, one palm in the center of his chest. He directed his own gaze to the side and saw the silhouetted figures of what appeared to be half the school, watching them from one of the verandas. Rage surged through him. Didn't these people have any shame? Or lives? Or class, for crying out loud?

Class. Right. Forgot who he was talking about.

''Let's just go.'' Her expression (what he could see of it) was concerned as much as it was aroused. He nodded at her good sense and stepped regretfully away from her warmth, opening the car door for her. ''Here.'' She dipped her thumb into the valley between her breasts, lifting it free with a key ring hanging around the digit. The rental tag dangled next to the two keys, but he couldn't see it. His vision was narrowed to her chest, his mind playing back the retrieval over and over. If the bulge he'd felt against his chest, through the cloth, was **keys**, and not the front clasp of her bra, like he'd thought; then did that mean…….. He licked his lips, considering the possibility that she wasn't _wearing a_ _bra_. ''Hey!'' Snapping fingers and jingling keys intercepted his gaze, drawing his eyes upwards to amused hazel fire. ''Better.''

''Like that outfit is really fair.'' He groused, taking the ring from her graceful fingers and trying to swallow through his lust as he watched that marvelous ass climb into the passenger seat. His comment made her laugh, eyes twinkling at him past her mask. He settled into the driver's seat, buckling in and checking that she was likewise secure before starting the engine. Driving the fine machine distracted him from the temptation beside him, though he still lifted his hand free (at a stoplight); intending to smooth a caress over her leg.

''Touch me and I'll touch you back.'' As threats went, it was an effective one. His left hand clenched tight on the wheel, and he shifted gears with his right with more force than was really necessary.

He parked the Mustang on the street by the Cohen's driveway, shrugging when she tilted her head at him. They could've gone to her place, he supposed; but this was closer, and he wanted her in **his** bed, if only this one time. He took her hand, dropping it to yank the stupid gloves off and stuff them in his jacket pockets before twining his now-bare fingers with hers. She just smiled at him, heels _ticking_ on the pavement as he led her up the driveway and around the side of the house. Lights were on in the main house, reminding him they should try and keep it down. The two teens slipped quietly into the pool house, Ryan lowering the shades before nodding at her to turn on the lamp on the nightstand.

Watching her look around his place (it was far too big and self-sufficient to be just a bedroom) while she removed her mask; he was struck by the epiphany of the realization he'd been avoiding since he first held her naked in his arms, in that Mexican hotel room. His hands shook as he removed his own mask, loosening the tie because he felt like it was choking him. Her heels were kicked towards him and he stared helplessly at her, caught in the limbo of what his heart was driving him to say and the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to.

'"Ryan?'' She came over to him, cupping his face in her palms. Her hazel eyes searched his expression, brow furrowed as she rubbed thumbs soothingly over his cheekbones. ''What's wrong?''

''Taylor, I…….'' He **couldn't**, he couldn't** say** it. Not to _**her**_, not now. Saying those three little words would ruin everything, they always did; and they never meant what he wanted them to mean.

His father had said it, usually adding something about ungrateful brats or stupid momma's boys. Frank Atwood had declared his love when he wanted something. To be forgiven, to get into the house after a night out, to live guilt-free. He'd said it, and then he'd gone out and committed a felony so he wouldn't have to come home and face the lie behind his words.

Dawn had used it the same way; with that little touch of guilt a mother was so good at. Her love had started the rift between him and Trey; because she said it to him, to her **good** baby, and never to his brother. Never when Ryan needed to hear it, either; like when she walked away from him for good. It was only when she wanted him to take care of her, to forgive her drunken mistakes.

His brother had only said it once or twice, usually when the younger Atwood was recovering from whatever abuses their mother's boyfriend of the week had inflicted on him. A part of the first-aid treatment, like a band-aid or antiseptic. He hadn't heard those words from Trey in years, not since the older boy (he supposed he was a man, now; he was certainly serving a man's sentence) had moved out of the house for good.

He'd heard the sweet words from girl after girl; stopped believing them after the third ditched him because they 'met someone' or because their parents laid down the law about him or because they just 'didn't feel that way' anymore. Theresa had only spoken them to him once; his reaction (shouting at her about how she could do better, how she should be more realistic) kept her from ever speaking them again.

_**He'd**_ never said them to anyone save his family, but even **those** declarations had been a code, a necessity that could no longer breach the walls he'd put up around his heart. It had become what he was **supposed** to say, the grease that oiled the wheels of how his life operated. Used that way, the words no longer had the power to hurt or disappoint; they became just words, meaningless.

If he said them now, though; he'd be restoring them to full force, he'd open a door he'd never be able to close again. How could he know it was even true, anyway? Yes, she was nothing like any girl he'd ever known before, and he was 99.99 sure that this **was** what he was feeling, but……….

What if he was _**wrong**_? What if it went away, like it had for those girls in Chino? Worse, what if _Taylor_ didn't feel it? Or if it faded for **her **and not for him?

He didn't think he could live with any of those scenarios, most especially the last.

''…..I…..'' He had to say _something_. Ryan had only paused for a few seconds hesitation (per the clock on his night stand), but he could already see the tiny flick of fear in her beautiful eyes. ''…..Taylor…..'' His tone was pleading, for what he didn't know. Understanding? Patience? He grabbed her by the shoulders, crushing his lips forcibly to hers; trying to convey with his body what he couldn't put into words.

''Ryan……'' She said it on a sigh, he braced himself for her anger, her irritation with his strange behavior; burying his face in her neck and wrapping his arms tightly around her in a desperate embrace. ''Sssssh.'' Taylor's fingers were gentle on the back of his neck, her voice soothing as she turned her head to kiss the spot just under his ear, making him tremble. ''I know.'' He pushed back, annoyed that (he felt) she was treating him like a child having a tantrum; caught by the expression on her face.

By the _**love**_ on her face.

He raised shaking fingers to touch her cheek, awed by the emotions he could read in her eyes. It was real, what he was seeing; it was actually** real**, what he was feeling. And he wasn't alone in it, wasn't alone in his fears about putting it into words. He slid his fingers into her hair, pulling her to him for a** far** more gentle kiss than before. A kiss that said everything neither one of them could speak aloud. A kiss as vital in it's revelations as their first.

Taylor pushed his jacket off his shoulders; he let it fall, returning his hands instantly to her red-dyed silk. She laughed as his lips shifted around on her neck as he stepped out of his shoes, giggling when he had to abandon the nectar of her mouth to struggle his way free of the tuxedo shirt she'd managed to tangle around his arms. She backed away, dropping herself onto his bed with a seductive smile, eyes traveling with bright intent over his torso.

Ryan took the opportunity of being out of her arms to remove what clothes were left; except his boxers. The light fabric would help him keep it together until he got _**her**_ naked. It was completely unfair that his costume had ended up having more layers than hers, he decided, moving towards where she lay propped up on her elbows. He sat on the bed, running one hand over her outfit, smiling teasingly as he opened the back of her suit, pulling her free of her devilishly seductive outfit with eager hands. Following the material with his fingers, he bared her skin to the hungry attention of his mouth. Sliding the PVC off her arms, letting it pool around her waist, he cupped one breast, easing her back onto his mattress before lowering his lips to the pebbled peak rising in the center of her creamy skin.

He moved up to tongue her neck, his caresses moving down her now-writhing form, his lips following with gentle appreciation on her heated flesh. She twisted in his arms, raining kisses over his shoulders, his neck, his chest; dragging her teeth over his skin. Pulling her body tight against him with a firm grip on her lovely ass, trying to roll the material of her costume down over her hips; he moaned in reaction to the feel of her once more marking him, this time on the rounded curve of his shoulder.

Her hips bucked into him and he realized that she was further along into this than he was. He rolled her quickly onto her back, settling easily between her legs and thrusting forward, somehow feeling the heat of her need through the fabric of his boxers and the PVC her lower body was still confined by. Taylor cried out (Korean, this time, he thought) and arced so sharply he had a brief fear for the integrity of her spine. He slowed the motion of his hips, bringing her back to him gently.

Hazel blinked blearily up at him and he shared her soft smile before claiming her lips in a tender kiss of passionate regard. She pushed, he moved just far enough away to enable them to get the now-slick material off her lithe body. His boxers fluttered to the floor atop the red pile, her fingers already busy; applying a condom from one of the boxes in his night stand with a swift and eager touch. Ryan lowered her back onto the bed once again, easing his aching shaft between her legs with a feeling of import stronger even than the very first time he'd found himself in this divine position.

Taylor caressed his shoulders, his neck, his face; retracing the motions to rest briefly on his upper arms before repeating the tender stroking. Slowly, he began to move, his forearms under her shoulder-blades, his fingers trailing gently through her hair; he brushed his knuckles softly over her cheek. She moved in sync with him, keeping the arching of her hips slow and easy in response to the softer passion they were caught up in. Eyes locked, it seemed an eternity before they reached the point of climax, gasping into each other's necks with a completion that was as exhausting as it was satisfying.

So that's what making love is like, Ryan thought tiredly. That's fucking **amazing**. The unintended pun would've made him snicker, if he'd had the energy.

Shit, he had to try that_ again_.

He lifted his head and saw the hazel eyes of his personal goddess fluttering closed, her breath evening out.

Right. Nap first, then more nirvana.

--xxx—

Someone (most likely his brother) was tapping his shoulder.

He shrugged, muttering darkly under his breath and hoping Seth would take the fucking_ hint_, for once.

He'd only just managed to drop off and, while he **was** interested to know how things had gone with Summer; it could god damn wait 'til morning.

Taylor had woken when he'd climbed off her to discard the latex, and they'd stumbled their way to a shower to clean the dye/gel out of their hair. **Cold** shower; because the last thing they needed was to let their hormones overtake them in their semi-exhausted state and wind up cracking their heads open on the tile (or porcelain) of his bathroom. Washing each other as their bodies adjusted to the chill had been ……..intimate? Relaxing? They'd indulged themselves, stroking with affection instead of foreplay over every inch until their skin was goose-pimpled and raisin-wrinkled.

Her teeth chattering a little as they'd crawled into bed (**under** the covers this time), she'd suggested that he'd insisted on the cold water in order to have a reason to 'warm her up'. He hadn't protested because, really? **Any** excuse to have her in his arms (especially naked) was one he was going to exploit to it's fullest. Waiting for their bodies to recover from the shuddering damp, they'd talked; talked more than they had since Mexico, when they were trying to get to know each other.

She'd eased his concerns about being worthy of what the Cohens had done for him, about not screwing up this amazing chance life had handed him. Ryan had soothed her nerves about being accepted, respected, by his friends and family. He'd talked about getting a job over the summer, she'd planned their 'first **official** dates', come spring. She'd told him about how much trouble she was having; trying to nail down a career to choose, a college to apply to. He'd spoken (hesitantly, disbelievingly) about the old dream of becoming an architect; wondering in his realization that he might actually have a shot at it.

She had confidence in him, she'd said. He'd responded the only way he knew how, sliding his hand up her side; letting his eyes and his body tell her what he couldn't, as yet, put into words. Taylor had accepted his silent declarations, hooking her right leg over his hip when the time came; making another position that they could mark off her list. The existence of which always made him smile, and that time had been no exception. Laying on his side, facing her lying on hers; it had slowed their rhythm to the point of agony, the edge of torture.

He'd loved every second of it, could tell by her shuddered clutching at his body that she had, too.

Not having the energy to do more than discard the condom afterwards, he'd flopped onto his back; her lithe form snuggling up against him. He'd barely managed to pull the covers up over her shoulders, putting his right arm around her and letting his left rest on top of the covers; holding her right arm in it's place draped over his ribs. Her breathing had slowed, warm over the skin of his chest; her left cheek tucked firmly into his shoulder, left arm curled up between their bodies. One soft kiss atop her still slightly-damp (from the shower) head, making her smile, and he'd drifted off himself.

Far too short a time ago for Seth to be tapping his bicep (again) insistently.

''Fuck off.'' Ryan mumbled, raised his left hand to irritably bat at the offending fingers. There was something wrong about his brother's touch, he just didn't feel like waking up enough to figure it out.

''Ryan.''

Oh _**shit.**_

That was **not **Seth's voice.

It was _**Kirsten's**_.

His eyes popped open, he was instantly awake and alert; like he'd received an injection of caffeine. He hadn't imagined it, then. His foster mother **was** hovering over him, staring down at him with an unreadable expression. From the way her eyes flicked towards the girl sleeping peacefully under his arm; he'd bet that most of it was a disappointed anger, but he didn't know the woman well enough to say for sure. She pointed at him, pointed at the main house; then tapped her watch and held up her hand with all five fingers spread wide. Turning sharply on one heel, she stalked (oh yeah, **definitely** angry, then) out the pool house door (which she closed with deliberate quiet) and across the patio.

Ryan swallowed, glancing down to see if any of that drama had awakened his lover. He smiled affectionately, easing himself free of her slumbering embrace. The girl slept a lot like she did everything else; with full dedication and commitment of every resource. Once free of the bed, he scrambled into a pair of sweats and a tee shirt; pausing in the act of stepping into his slippers (first time he'd used them) to brush an errant strand of hair out of her face.

''What do you think you're doing?!" He didn't flinch from her shouting. For one thing, she hadn't cursed at him. Every time he'd **really** crossed the line of someone's patience, they always started cussing at him. For another, he knew for a solid fact that she wouldn't throw him out. Not with the way she'd been fussing over his mid-semester grades, the way she'd been bragging (he'd overheard, on his way to the car, after a game) on his athletic achievements and 'heroism' in TJ. Last but certainly not least, she wasn't even **close** to the violent type. Seth had never even been so much as patted on his ass, and **that** guy tried the patience of saints. ''**Answer** me, Ryan!"

All his reassurances aside, she was still pretty pissed.

''Standing in the kitchen?'' Shit. Of all times for him to act like a Cohen. Her face tightened and he gained new understanding of the term 'eyes flashing'. ''Sorry.''

''You should be. How could you do this? Don't you** know** how wrong this is?'' Ryan clenched his fists, opening his mouth to protest her opinion of him and Taylor; when he realized what she was _actually _pissed about. Anna. He rubbed his face, trying to wake up his brain. ''You are going to choose _**one girl**_. You are, whichever one it is; going to call Anna and say you're sorry and **then** you are going to go out there and apologize to whoever that is in your bed.'' She was drawing breath to deliver more ultimatums when Sandy walked in.

''Kid?'' His face must be a real sight, to put that look on his foster father's face. He sighed, shaking his head. Kirsten turned to her husband, pointing at the blonde boy accusingly.

''Do you know what just happened?''

''Seth called…..'' Sandy let the question hang, looking with obvious expectation from one blonde to the other. He shook his head, willing to let the woman vent some of her irritation with the recounting of events.

''He's giving Luke a ride home. He said Ryan left the dance early, so I checked the pool house, and what did I find?!'' She crossed her arms, glaring at his unconcerned expression. ''Tell him!'' She looked from her husband to her foster son, eyes narrowing in the complicit silence.

''Looks like you're busted, kid.'' He shrugged.

''I'm not the only one.'' Ryan commented, resisting the urge to snicker as the man's wife (in almost the same instant) slugged the him in one arm.

''Sandy! You knew about this?!'' She scowled, then frowned in blatant confusion. ''What's going on here? I can't believe **you** knew about him cheating…..''

''I'm not cheating.'' He ducked his head away from her fierce expression, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. ''I'm not.''

''Just because Anna doesn't **know** doesn't mean it's right! You are going to **call** her, **right** now, and………''

''I can't do that.''

''Ryan!''

''Kid……''

''She's on a date.'' The unexpected declaration silenced his guardians for a moment, Kirsten's face instantly softened.

''Oh, honey.'' She came over to him, twitched her arms like she was going to hug him; most likely stopped by the memory of how she'd found him, moments ago. ''I didn't know you two broke up.''

''We didn't.'' This was it, this was the point he'd been dreading; the time when he'd have to choose which promises to keep, which relationships held the greater value. Seeing the disappointment and anger growing (again) in her eyes, he made his decision. ''She's gay.''

''Well, that explains a lot.'' Sandy sighed, opening the freezer and pulling out the ice cream. His wife moved in a daze, getting down the bowls and retrieving spoons; sending him confused glances and her husband irritated looks. Once the fudge ripple was dispersed, she spoke again.

''Someone will tell me what's going on. _**Now**_.'' There was no arguing with** that** voice, with The Kirsten.

He started the story in TJ, about how he'd told Marissa off, about how he'd just wanted to escape the clinging weepiness of her presence. He skipped over the details of meeting Taylor, letting his blushing speak for him. Sandy told her about Veronica (her mouth tightened at the mention of the woman, her glance towards the pool house sympathetic), the need for secrecy, the necessity of his clandestine behavior. Ryan took up the tale when they reached his inadvertently spending the night at the hotel. It had, after all, been the start of his 'relationship' with Anna.

''Anna's now got a solid rep as a 'wild woman', everyone thinks Taylor's lusting after Luke; and it'll come as no shock to **anyone** when Anna 'dumps' me, because everyone saw me with Taylor at the dance, even thought they didn't know it was _**Taylor.**_'' He smiled, happy to have everyone that mattered finally in the know and eagerly anticipating the day when circumstances would alter to the point that lying would no longer be necessary. ''Marissa comes back next semester, so Luke will 'dump' Taylor and with the damage **her** rep will take…….''

''Her mother will let you date her.'' Kirsten sighed, letting her spoon clatter into the empty bowl. ''Honey, did you really think all this subterfuge was necessary? I could've…….''

''Whatever you would've done, would've said; it would **never** have been enough to convince Veronica Townsend to allow Ryan to date her daughter.'' Sandy interrupted his wife, patting her hand comfortingly. ''You know what the woman's like. Even hinting he was interested would've had her pulling Taylor out of Harbor and filing charges of sexual harassment.'' The man gave him a nervous look, licking his lips before continuing. ''She **did** lead the charge to keep him out, after all; and she nearly got him _expelled_ over that soccer incident.'' Fuck, what a bitch. He shook his head at his foster father's concerned look, denying any anger about it. Her treatment of her daughter was the reason he hated her; nothing she did to him (or tried to do, rather) mattered in comparison to **that.**

Of all the women he'd ever known; it was that utterly irredeemable self-involved……..

He calmed down with a deep breath, forcing himself to unclench his hands.

It was weird. Thinking about the Townsend women had two, equally powerful and conflicting effects on him. Veronica made him homicidal, and Taylor……….

Taylor made him a better person.

''Good thing Doctor Kim's an honest and principled woman.'' His foster mother bit her lip, and he was startled to realize that it was the same look _**she**_ got, when her feelings were hurt. What _else_ did they have in common?

Okay, not a place he wanted to go.

''It wasn't that we didn't trust you.'' He leaned forward, trying to convey his sincerity. ''We just didn't want you to have to lie, to have to deal with Veronica's bull shit.''

''Don't say bull shit.'' She corrected him automatically, smiling at him so gently he knew he wasn't going to be in trouble for the cussing. ''Okay, I think I understand what's been going on.'' She stood, gathering their bowls and placing them in the sink. ''We'll talk some more about this tomorrow…..'' she glanced at the clock ''…..later today, rather. I'll get some clothes for her to wear home, you can sleep in the guest room the rest of the night…...'' Kirsten saw the look on his face, shaking her head at him. ''You can't have her to sleep over , Ryan; especially without permission. It's not….''

''If she wakes up and I'm not there she's gonna freak.'' He crossed his arms stubbornly, setting his jaw. If she really thought that putting him in the guest room was going to keep him away from the bliss that was Taylor, she was seriously underestimating matters. ''It's not like we're gonna make a habit of it, it's just……. tonight it was ……..'' All his walls were down, thanks to _**her**_; and he barely managed to get a grip on his tongue before he blurted out everything in his head, in his heart. ''Tonight was special.''

With his head bent, staring at the counter-top, he couldn't see the looks the Cohens were trading, the silent communication that passed between them. The first hint he had that things had gone his way was Sandy's chuckle, the man's hand on his shoulder.

''Let him spend the night with his girl, honey.'' He shot his male guardian a grateful look, getting a teasing expression in return. ''From the amount of condoms he's going through, they're definitely being safe.'' Ryan dropped his gaze back to the counter, feeling heat flare over his face and neck. ''He'll get more sleep if he's not trying to sneak back to her every fifteen minutes, anyway.'' The heat increased, he squirmed under the gentle grip, wishing he dared say something to shut the man up. ''So will we, for that matter.''

''Oh, all right.'' Kirsten ruffled his hair, making his humiliation complete. He ducked away from Sandy's clap on his back with a sour look, making the lawyer laugh aloud. Great, they thought it was 'cute'. He couldn't wait for them to refer to her as his 'little friend' or make some other suggestion designed to embarrass him.

Breakfast tomorrow was going to be hell. He was just glad that…….

The front door slammed and he sighed, resigned to his fate.

''I'm home, I'm home!"' Seth stumbled into the kitchen, fake sword in one hand with the cloak draped over that same arm. ''I'm only thirty minutes after curfew, so you can't……..'' The other boy looked from his blushing foster brother, to his amused father, and over to the tender expression of his mother. He set his costume's props on the counter, putting his hands determinedly on his hips. ''Okay, what'd I miss?''

''Night.'' Ryan made his escape, not quite running towards the patio door.

''Wait, Ryan? What…….'' He heard the pleading enter his friend's voice and smiled to himself. ''Dad? Dad, what's……''

''Good night, Seth.'' There was a sound of someone's back being patted, footsteps retreating.

''Mom? What happened? Is…..''

''Good night, sweetie.'' He heard her kiss the guy's cheek, knowing that the action wasn't as resented as the boy claimed it was.

Just as he was reaching the limits of his hearing, he heard one last plaintive sentence.

''……I'm just here for the comic relief…….'' He smirked, mind shifting towards what was waiting for him behind the doors in front of him ''…….no one tells me anything…….''

--xxx—

_-- roll credits_He

_--xxx—_

Got this French from the Babelfish site and other random sources. If it's wrong, I apologize to the entire French people and the Babelfish site administrators.

_Le petite morte _– the little death

_Oui_ – yes

_Certainmonte_ – certainly?

_Vous avez de beaux cheveux_ – you have beautiful hair

_Et merci_ – and thank you

_Vous etes beinvenu_ – you're welcome

_Laissez-moi partir_ – let me go

_Je ne comprends pa_ – I don't understand

C'est trop mauvais – that's too bad

_Je suis desole_ – I'm sorry

_Avez-vous le sexe avec moi_ – will you have sex with me


End file.
